


You Make the Sound of Pulling Heaven Down

by and_mister_comatose_over_there



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build, Wing Kink, Wingfic, and a lot of angst too oh no, biweekly updates, i know this says major character death but there is a happy ending i promise, like a lot of fluff seriously, this is a weird
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:37:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_mister_comatose_over_there/pseuds/and_mister_comatose_over_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All human lives are connected, interwoven by a line of fate thinner than a spider's silk thread. Every single one was created with a purpose, and each human life holds great importance, even if the purpose of that life is to push another's life into their own predetermined role. Of course, because they are such complex and emotional creatures, humans rarely ever keep to their destined courses. That's where the angels come in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Closing Walls and Ticking Clocks

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a weird little storyline that wouldn't leave me alone. I've posted this before, but I rewrote a lot of it and added a few things. I will be updating every two weeks. On Tuesdays.
> 
> Fic title taken from "The Sound of Pulling Heaven Down" by Blue October.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Clocks" by Coldplay.
> 
> I do not own Supernatural, or any of the characters. Sadly.
> 
> Constructive criticism is not only welcome, but encouraged.

The battery-operated analog clock on Bobby Singer's office wall chugs through the evening, an audible click sounding for every second that passes. For a human, it would sound slow, like a locomotive fighting its way to get uphill. The clock yawns a weary 'tock,' seemingly too tired for its 'tick.' It still displays the correct time, so Mr. Singer knows that it hasn't fallen behind. At least, not yet.

The clock isn't tired, though, but it rather wisely knows how to pace itself for the long haul. This clock sounded like a metronome, patiently and steadily keeping beat. Humans are like young piano students impatiently playing faster at each stanza-- rather than submitting to and partnering with the metronome, they challenge it, pounding the keys in a rhythm dictated of their own will But this old clock is not deterred, and it certainly isn't swayed by changes in any human's moods or wishes. The clock is a constant, steady reminder that the humans are not in control. 

All human lives are connected, interwoven by a line of fate thinner than a spider's silk thread. Every single one was created with a purpose, and each human life holds great importance, even if the purpose of that life is to push another's life into their own predetermined role. Of course, because they are such complex and emotional creatures, humans rarely ever keep to their destined courses. That's where the angels come in. 

They are the gears and cogs of the clock, keeping things running as smoothly as possible, making sure that the ticking is steady and consistent. It's the job of the angels to make sure that the strings of the web do not break, that everything happens according to the Great Plan. Just like humans, each angel was brought into creation with a specific task in mind. There are millions of them scattered among the heavens and the earth, keeping the clock working and the humans on track for their destinies. 

There are, in heaven, eight different types of angels. 

The archangels, of course, rank higher than any other angels in the heavens. 

The Cherubs are the knowledge-keepers and scribes. They mostly reside in the Great Library, and are always under the watchful eye of the seraph Metatron.

Guardians are personal angels assigned to specific humans and ordered to keep them safe. In order for a human to obtain a Guardian, another human must give up their life willingly to save the human in question. Typically, Guardians are former soldiers and are not assigned until the human they must protect comes to face eminent danger. The Guardians are led by the seraph Zachariah. 

The Dominion angels assign Guardians to humans. It is very important that the Dominions choose the perfect angel for each human, because if something were to go wrong, the entire web could collapse. They are headed by the seraph Anna. 

Throne angels are peace and balance keepers. It is their job to make sure that each human stays on their correct predetermined path. The seraph Naomi leads the Thrones. 

The Messengers are angels used to relay important instruction to humans involving their fate. Messengers are typically used as a last resort if the Thrones are not able to steer the humans in the correct direction. Messengers answer to the archangel Gabriel. 

Healing angels are responsible for medical and literal miracles. The archangel Raphael is the head of the Healers. All angels, of course, are capable of healing a human. Healers, however, have the ability to heal thousands at a time.

The Soldiers are the defenders of the Garrison, the ones called upon when battles are faced, and are led by the archangel Michael. 

Castiel was merely a soldier, given life so that he may take it from any enemy the Garrison may have. It had been years since an angel had been called to war, so Castiel was quite surprised when Uriel appeared to him while he was observing the calm of an eternal Tuesday afternoon, a heaven created by an  autistic man who died in a bathtub in 1953. Uriel was a soldier like himself, but he was much older than Castiel, and therefore, more experienced. 

"Uriel." The angel stood from where he was seated on an old mahogany bench, giving a slight incline of his head as a sign of respect for his brother.

"The Elders have requested an audience with you, Castiel." Uriel gave him a small smile. 

"Me?" He was vaguely confused as to why a simple soldier would be called upon by the highest ranking angels in heaven, but he nodded his acceptance of the news without further question. "Very well. I will leave at once." 

Uriel stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder. "It was an honor to fight with you, brother."

This puzzled Castiel even more,  but he didn't speak his confusion. He simply nodded and took flight, skipping unseen through multiple interpretations of heaven before landing in front of a solid white door. 

"Come in, Castiel." He recognized Anna's voice through the door, and he steeled himself before opening it. Inside, instead of all seven Elders, he only faced three of them sitting at a large oak table in the center of the room. Castiel bowed his head as a sign of servitude and submission to the higher ranking angels in front of him. 

He stayed silent, waiting for one of them to speak. 

"He's perfect." Anna spoke about him as if he wasn't even in the room. Her fiery red hair danced across her shoulders and she turned to look at her companions.

"Don't you want a higher ranking soldier? Someone who could defend his assignment? Uriel is more than qualified." Castiel recognized the voice as Naomi. He didn't dare look up. 

"No." Anna said the word with a sense of reverence in her voice. "It must be Castiel. No one else will do."

The grumbled remark came from Zachariah, and Castiel had to strain to hear it. "Very well. It's not as if either of us can overrule your decision."

"Castiel, brother, look at me." He glanced up immediately at Anna's order. "I am assigning you to a human. From this day, you will accompany him until it is time for his soul to enter heaven. Do you understand?" 

"Of course." He nodded his comprehension and reached tentatively for the small file she slid across the table. 

"Zachariah has already spoken to Uriel about your fighting skills. He spoke very highly of you, Castiel." She was smiling, but Castiel was averting his eyes once more, showing them that he knew his place among them.

"Dean Winchester." Zachariah finally spoke as Castiel opened the folder, looking over his assignment. "His mother gave her life for him when he was merely a boy. Now, he's willing to give his life for his brother. This cannot happen. Both Winchesters are a significant part of the Great Plan, and Dean must be protected at all costs."  

And that is how Castiel found himself in Bobby Singer's office, watching the clock tick ever-so-slowly. It had been thirty-seven seconds since he had landed in this human's house, and he was patiently waiting for Dean to wake from the drunken stupor he had fallen into almost thirteen hours ago. The house was empty, save for the angel and his charge, and Castiel was already bored out of his mind. 

Dean made an unpleasant noise, rolling over and scrubbing at his eyes. The action made no sense to Castiel, who had never before been given the opportunity to be this close in proximity to a human. Dean sat up, and Castiel could hear the audible popping of his joints as he stretched, filling the silence with enough noise to drown out the insistent ticking of the clock. When the human opened his eyes, they fell on the angel for a moment, a look of puzzlement etched into the hard lines of his features, and Castiel panicked. 

The human brain is not nearly complex enough to ascertain an angel's true form. Instead, it creates an image of the creature in a human body. An angel can use this misdirection of vision to shift in and out of the human's line of sight, appearing and disappearing with merely a thought.

Dean Winchester was not supposed to be able to see him, and yet, the human's eyes had found him instantly. Dean pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, looking up once more, and Castiel saw the tense muscles in the man's body relax instantly. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair and stood, disregarding the fact that Castiel was merely feet from him. 

Oh. 

Castiel had gotten wary for no reason at all. Dean couldn't see him. He was probably just shaking off the last remnants of a dream that had plagued his sleep.

He watched as the man made a pot of coffee, scribbling something on a notebook that was magnetically stuck to Bobby Singer's refrigerator. After filling up a travel mug with half of the coffee, Dean left the house, fishing in his pocket for a set of keys. 

Castiel diligently followed him across town, frowning at the speed at which Dean drove his flashy car. When he pulled up to an apartment building, Castiel landed in front of the car, still concealed from Dean's sight. 

Or so he thought. 

Dean's eyes met his, and Castiel felt something terrifying flood through his veins. There was no way to deny that Dean was looking directly at him. The man blinked, and relaxed once more, shaking his head and mumbling as he pulled himself from the car. 

Castiel felt foolish. 

It was an impossibility that any human could see him.

He followed Dean up the stairs to his apartment and watched as he fumbled with his keys. Once the door was unlocked, Castiel stepped inside after him, glancing around at the new-looking interior that wasn't decorated at all. He leaned casually against one of the bare walls, eyes trailing after Dean as he made more coffee, pulling a skillet from one of the cabinets.

The human made eggs, which was odd, considering the fact that it was nearly 5 pm, but Castiel delighted at the smell of them. He had never been so close to human food, and he couldn't stop the grin from splitting his face when the smell of seared pork flesh blended in with the smell of the scrambled chicken fetuses. He never understood how humans could consume other creatures so carelessly, but the scents filling the apartment were rapturous. 

Castiel crept closer, watching the bacon pop and sizzle in the pan, and he could see the way Dean's grip tightened on the spatula in  his hand, knuckles going white from the obvious unease of his subconscious telling him  that he wasn't alone. The angel stepped back, returning to his spot against the wall, content with simply watching Dean enjoy his breakfast and basking in the wonderful fragrance of human food. 

Dean seemed to relax into the silence, closing his eyes and murmuring appreciatively to no one in particular around each bite. Castiel studied him, taking in the man's physical appearance and submitting it to memory. 

There were precisely 124 freckles smattering across Dean's nose and cheekbones. His eyes were green, and as vivid as any celestial being's. In fact, if Dean were an angel, the brightness of his eyes would strongly suggest that he was ranked highly-- maybe even as high as a seraph. 

Castiel looked a little deeper, switching his perception minutely to peer into the man's soul. He was surprised, to say the least, when he had to practically squint from the level of luminescence that Dean Winchester's soul gave off. 'Bright' was an understatement in this case. In fact, Dean Winchester's soul was brilliant enough to rival the gleaming pulse of angel grace that emitted from a dying brother or sister, burning winged silhouettes into the nearest surface.

It was peculiar for a human soul to be this intensely hued, and Castiel understood suddenly why this particular human was so significant to the Great Plan. Dean Winchester was good in every way. His soul emanated his righteousness so loudly that Castiel was surprised that he hadn't noticed it sooner. This was a man who had a genuine heart and stainless intentions, a man who could do so many great things in the name of the Lord, and Castiel was honored to have been given this assignment. 

Protecting Dean Winchester would be a privilege. 

Dean was on his feet now, cleaning the dishes he had eaten from and wiping haphazardly at the counter. When he turned back around, the human sighed, running a hand through his hair again before moving down the hall and into the restroom.

Castiel gave Dean his space, waiting patiently in the hallway and allowing him to shower in peace. Merely four minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Castiel was greeted by the heady scent of Dean's shampoo. Fourty-two seconds after the fragrant assault, he heard Dean start singing. 

"I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride!" 

Castiel couldn't contain his smile. This human was amusing, and he wondered if all humans were this easily entertained.

When Dean was finished showering, Castiel waited in the living room for him to dress, and when he heard the sound of keys, the angel knew that they were leaving again. When the human walked through the living room and out the front door, Castiel followed him, watching as he locked the door and hurried down the stairs. 

The angel chose to ride in the back seat of the car this time, rather than flying behind it. As Dean drove, Castiel kept his eye on their surroundings, watching diligently for anything that could pose a threat to his assignment. It was approximately twenty-four minutes into their drive that Dean pulled into the Roadhouse. 

Castiel pulled Dean's file out of thin air, opening the folder and skimming the words over until he found what he was looking for. The Roadhouse was owned by Ellen Harvelle. After her death three years ago, Dean took over running the bar so that Ellen's only child, Joanna, could finish schooling in New York. This was yet another example of the human's selflessness, yet another reason Castiel is proud to have Dean Winchester as his assignment. 

He followed Dean around to the back door, studying the premises as the door was unlocked. He trailed behind the human, choosing a stool at the end of the bar for himself and readied for a long night. Castiel watched as people started filing in at approximately 7:30 pm. Dean was good with the crowd, winking and flirting with the women, and laughing and joking with the men. 

"Sammy!" 

Castiel glanced up when Dean bellowed  as he leapt over the bar, his voice raising higher than it had the entire night. The angel immediately scanned the room for any sort of threat, but he eased when he saw Dean throw an affectionate hug around a taller man.

Samuel Winchester hugged his older brother, grinning widely as he did so. 

"What can I get you, man? Beer?" Dean hopped back over to his side of the bar, pulling a glass from the shelf.

"Actually, I-" 

Castiel stopped listening to the exchange when a rancid smell filled his nostrils.

Demon.

He stood from his corner of the bar, keeping himself hidden as he prowled through the crowd, searching for the creature hidden within. He reach his mind toward Dean, wrapping around his conscience. Castiel wouldn't be able to read the human's mind, but any sudden emotional change would be alerted to him. 

His nostrils flared as he walked along the wall of the bar, circling the room twice before a twinge of shock swept through him. He instantly found Dean in the crowd, in the arms of a woman. Castiel narrowed his eyes when the female jerked away from him. Demon. He flared his wings, giving off the light of his grace, making sure that this display was invisible to any human onlookers. 

He saw the woman flinch and excuse herself. 

Castiel followed at once, stepping into the alleyway directly behind her. He grabbed her by the ebony curls on her head, slamming her front-first against the wall in the alley, pressing against her to pin her there. 

"Please, I-" 

"What is your business with Dean Winchester? "

"I... I have no business with Dean. It's Sam. I swear. I love him. I-"

"Relationships between humans and supernatural beings are an abomination." Castiel remarked. He could feel the creature struggling to escape him, but he was much stronger than she was. "You are an abomination." 

"I didn't realize Dean had been marked. I won't touch him, I swear. Just, please don't kill me." 

She was crying now, but Castiel couldn't bring himself to care. "What's your name?"

"...Ruby." She sniffled against the brick wall, not even attempting to break away. 

"If you so much as speak his name..."

"I won't. I'm not stupid enough to touch a Guardian's assignment. I swear." 

Castiel released her. "You will stop seeing Sam Winchester." 

The demon turned, scowling at him. 

"Or I could kill you right now?" 

"Fine!" She held her hands up in surrender."Fine. I'll call him tomorrow and break it off." 

"Leave." Castiel turned around, flying back to his corner of the bar. He kept his senses open until he felt the demon's presence gone. 

Samuel left shortly after, worried about his girlfriend. 

At 2:30, Dean declared that it was time for last call, and the few customers still at the bar grumbled, but left without contesting the order. Castiel kept his eyes on Dean, who was humming to himself and cleaning the mess that his patrons had made. It was 3:46 am before he was satisfied enough with the appearance of the bar to start locking up the place. Once they were in the back alley, Dean sighed, a yawn ripping its way from his lungs.

The ride home was pleasant, and Castiel sat in the passenger's seat with a small smile on his face. Comparatively five miles from Dean's apartment, he pulled his car over onto the shoulder of the road, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. 

"Okay." Castiel worried for the human's sanity, because Dean was seemingly speaking to no one. 

"I don't know what's going on here, but I know I'm not crazy. You're there, in the corner of my eye, and then you're gone. So, who are you? W-what are you? And why are you following me?"

Castiel's breath caught in his throat. 

This was impossible. 

"I'm talking to you, ghostly tax accountant in my passenger's seat." Dean insisted, and Castiel had no choice now but to make himself known. 

All of his soldier's training had not prepared him for this. He had no idea how to interact with a human, especially one who was able to see through his cloaking. So, instead of speaking up, the angel fled, leaving the car and landing in his favorite Tuesday afternoon with merely a thought. He sat on his bench, burying his head in his hands. 

"Castiel?" 

Anna's voice was unexpected, and he jumped at the sound of it. Usually, he would have been able to pinpoint another angel the instant they appeared, but Castiel was so frazzled right now. 

"Is something wrong, brother?"  She sat next to him, and Castiel had enough of a mindset to keep his head lowered.

"He could see me. I was cloaked, and he saw me. All day. I've messed up, and I don't know how to fix this." 

"This isn't your fault brother." He was surprised when she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, just above his left wing. 

"My cloaking was flawed, Anna. I have mangled my assignment on the first day."

"You've done no such thing. Some humans are capable of seeing past even the best cloaks, Castiel. Tell me, did you look into his soul?" He nodded, his breath going uneven at the thought of the brilliance lying within Dean Winchester. "What did you see?"

Her voice was wistful, and Castiel longed to look at her, to see her expression, but he kept his eyes on the plush grass at his feet. 

"If there were words to describe it, sister, I would. I have never seen a soul as bright as his." 

"Dean Winchester is very important, Castiel." She pressed her index finger against the underside of his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. "As are you."

"With all due respect to your decision, sister... Why me? You told Naomi that it had to be me. Why?"

"The Elders simply follow orders, Castiel. I chose you because I was told to choose you." 

"Did you know he'd be able to see me?" Castiel kept his eyes on hers until she moved her hand away. His gaze dropped back to the grass. 

"I knew he was special. I didn't know to what extent." She offered him another comforting pat on the back before standing. "I wouldn't stay up here too long. If Zachariah thinks you are slacking, he could pull the assignment."

The thought terrified Castiel. A single day with his charge, and he was already in danger of losing his assignment. He was in danger of losing Dean. Castiel nodded, and he could feel the instant change in the air when Anna disappeared. 

He took flight without another thought, landing in Dean's kitchen, directly in front of the human. The man nearly jumped out of his skin when Castiel appeared before him, letting out a small squeak of surprise upon the invasion of his personal space. His coffee cup hit the floor, and the ceramic shattered upon impact.

The concept of drinking coffee was still lost on the angel. His brothers who had visted earth previously had described the beverage as bitter, a flavor heavy on one's tongue. He glanced down to the pieces of the cup on the linoleum and wondered, when has a coffee mug served its purpose? Is it most fully living out its calling when it is full, steam rising from piping liquid nearly breaching the brim? Or is it best to say that the cup has filled its purpose when it has been emptied to the last drop, satisfying the one who poured into the mug? 

Humans often struggle with the urge to find fulfillment by holding onto things, by filling their mug rather than pouring themselves out. Castiel, however, is struck by the entirety that 'fulfilled' is a word that can only be truly discovered through emptiness. 

The angel sent a silent prayer to his Father, a plea for strength and patience. He wanted to make sure that Dean Winchester's last day on this planet looked like an empty coffee mug-- sticky, brown rings marking the tablecloth of the world around him, a dry line circling the brim to indicate the amount of greatness that had been poured into him, a light brown stain accumulated in the bottom corner that serves as a testimony of a life poured out for the sake of others, good to the last drop. 

Life is about pouring out. 

The angel bent, piecing together the sharp fragments with a wave of his hand before standing once more. He offered the cup to Dean, who took it with shaking hands, eyes still wide and unblinking.

Castiel gritted his teeth, completely dropping his cloak, not that it was doing much good anyway. He should have asked Anna about human interaction, and how he should proceed with explaining to Dean who he was and why he was there. He figured that flashing his wings might be overkill, so Castiel did the first thing that came to him. 

He opened his mouth and, for the first time since his creation, spoke to a human. 

"Hello, Dean."


	2. I Feel Like a Waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angel took a breath, pushing his wings into existence with merely a thought, and he could hear the human's stunned intake of breath, and he was pleased that Dean seemed taken aback by the sight of him. He knew that his wings were less than impressive when compared to those of his brothers or sisters, but Castiel had always kept them groomed and made sure that each feather was in order. He, being nothing but a soldier, had only two solid white wings that sprouted from between his shoulders. When spread, he had about a 10-foot wingspan, but he kept them folded now, trying to get used to the feeling of the tips of his feathers brushing the linoleum at his feet. The wings ruffled in agitation as he met Dean's eye. 
> 
> "Dean Winchester, do not patronize me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'll apologize in advance for this chapter being so short.
> 
> I lost my sister this week-- she had a lung disease called cystic fibrosis. 
> 
> And then, there was GISHWHES.
> 
> Anyway, here's the next chapter. The title was taken from "Slow and Steady" by Of Monsters and Men.
> 
> Constructive criticism is not only welcome, but encouraged.

"Hello?" Dean took a step back, and Castiel frowned when he slammed the newly pieced-together coffee mug on the counter.

 

He was puzzled at the way that Dean had questioned his words. Had he been mistaken in thinking that a simple salutation would be enough to alert Dean of his presence? Had he misspoken? And, if the human was going to constantly mistreat his ceramic dishes, why did Castiel even bother with repairing the damage? He was slightly irked at the thought of Dean being careless.

 

"I apologize, but the semantics of human communication are not something that I have previously studied. Have I been incorrect to assume that a greeting would be the appropriate way of initiating contact between the two of us?"

 

"Who... What..?" Dean took another step back, startling himself when his lower back hit the counter. He relinquished his hold on the coffee mug and tightened his fingers around the edge of the counter behind him. "Why are you following me?"

 

Castiel's frowned deepened.

 

He could hear Dean's heart beating, the rhythm picking up speed with every second of silence that ticked past. He looked past the man's wide eyes and felt a spike of terror flood the human's chest. He was scared. Castiel took a step toward Dean, his nostrils flaring as he took in their surroundings, looking for any possible threat that would make the human feel so uneasy. He was shocked, however, when the man shrunk away from him.

 

Oh.

 

Dean was scared of him.

 

"Oh." He repeated his thought, distancing himself from the human. Castiel didn't speak again until he was pressed against the far wall of the kitchen, and he could visibly see Dean easing once there was space between them. "I apologize. It wasn't my intention to intimidate or frighten you in any way."

 

"Who are you?" Dean spoke after a long pause, his voice wavering slightly, and Castiel frowned again.

 

It was an odd notion-- that the one being that was supposed to protect you could harm you. Castiel didn't understand how humans could be so wary of the only force keeping them safe. Then again, maybe he was judging too quickly since he had yet to answer any of Dean's questions.

 

"I am Castiel." He spoke confidently. "I am an angel of the Lord."

 

He watched the emotions play across Dean's face. Shock. Bewilderment. Scrutiny. Confusion. Anger. Amusement.

 

"Sam put you up to this? I mean, I don't really understand how you've been disappearing and reappearing all day, and the cup thing was a hell of a trick." Dean inclined his head toward the coffee mug.

 

"Dean, I assure you, this is not some sort of antic brought about by your brother. I am an angel of the Lord, and I have been assigned as your Guardian."

 

"Wait, what?" Dean shook his head, a hysterical bubble of laughter bursting through his lips. "Dude, nice try, but there is no way I'm gonna believe that you're an angel."

 

Castiel narrowed his eyes. He now understood why Uriel had such a low opinion of humans.

 

"Oh, come on, angel-boy. You're wearing a freaking trench coat. Where are your wings?" Dean was chuckling now, and Castiel was struck by how his eyes shone with his amusement.

 

The angel took a breath, pushing his wings into existence with merely a thought, and he could hear the human's stunned intake of breath, and he was pleased that Dean seemed taken aback by the sight of him. He knew that his wings were less than impressive when compared to those of his brothers or sisters, but Castiel had always kept them groomed and made sure that each feather was in order. He, being nothing but a soldier, had only two solid white wings that sprouted from between his shoulders. When spread, he had about a 10-foot wingspan, but he kept them folded now, trying to get used to the feeling of the tips of his feathers brushing the linoleum at his feet. The wings ruffled in agitation as he met Dean's eye.

 

"Dean Winchester, do not patronize me."

 

He was standing perfectly still, analyzing the calculating look Dean was giving him.

 

"Okay..." The human took a deep breath. "So you're an angel."

 

"As I have said twice already." Castiel felt a twinge of annoyance, and his wings rustled behind him to betray the emotion.

 

"You're... An angel?" Dean spoke the same words as before, but his inflections showed confusion, a need for yet another bought of reassurance.

 

"Yes, Dean. As you have now said twice already as well." He felt the unfamiliar tug of a smile on the corner of his lips, and Castiel suppressed the amusement by clearing his throat. "As also previously stated, I am Castiel, and I was given the honor of being chosen as your Guardian."

 

"Guardian?" Dean furrowed his brow. His hands had released the countertop and he was easing, even if it was at an infinitesimal rate. "Wait. Why do I need a Guardian? Am I in trouble?"

 

"You, Dean Winchester, are important." Castiel spoke with pride, conviction lacing every syllable that fell from his lips.

 

At that, the human scoffed. "Wrong guy, Cas. You're probably looking for my brother."

 

Castiel was at a loss for words. The apparent shortening of his name threw him, and Dean's lack of faih in himself was just as puzzling. Not only was it puzzling, it was insulting.

 

"Cas?"

 

"Yeah, well..." Dean shrugged. "Castiel is a mouthful."

 

The angel shook his head as if to clear it. "I assure you, I am not mistaken. Your brother is also very important, Dean Winchester, but he does not meet the criteria to be awarded a Guardian."

 

"Drop the Winchester, okay? You can just call me Dean." He sighed and scrubbed at his eyes. "Criteria?"

 

"You should rest." Castiel urged, making his wings disappear from Dean's line of vision.

 

He really didn't want to talk about Mary Winchester, begging for her son's life to be spared as she stared down the barrel of a shotgun, a trembling child hidden behind her. He didn't want to think about the pieces of flesh and blonde hair that had been sprayed all over the boy's face before the home intruder made his escape. Castiel felt his stomach roll.

Humanity, for something so fragile and beautiful, could also be so relentlessly sickening.

 

"It's only..." Dean's eyes scanned the room until he found the clock. "Five-ish. And Ash has the bar tomorrow, so I've got no plans. I've got questions."

 

Castiel swallowed, narrowing his eyes in speculation. "You're exhausted. Your questions will still be here tomorrow."

 

"But will the answers?" Dean yawned despite his argument. "Will you?"

 

"Sleep, Dean. I will watch over you, and we can talk once you're rested." Castiel spoke slowly, testing the singular name as it rolled off of his tongue.

After a moment, he decided he liked it.

 

"You'll watch over me?" The human snorted, but Castiel couldn't see what was so amusing. "Kinda creepy, Cas."

 

"I don't see what's unsettling about me merely doing my duty, Dean."

 

"The whole 'I watch you sleep' thing is a tad unsettling." Dean rolled his eyes, yawning again. "But whatever. I'm beat."

 

Castiel nodded when the human conceeded his argument, slightly pleased with himself.

 

"Can you, um-" The angel watched Dean scratch at the back of his neck, watched his muscles tensing again. He was nervous. "Do you sleep?"

 

"I do not require sleep, but it is a luxury that angels are able to indulge in." Castiel had never slept-- he found it silly and useless to allow himself to take part in human acts. "Why do you ask?"

 

"Could you... Maybe do your watch thing from  the living room? I don't want to wake up to you standing over my bed. It's a-" Dean stopped talking, and Castiel's chest started to ache.

 

He knew exactly how the human was planning on finishing that sentence.

 

"Perhaps I can wait in the living room? On the couch?" Castiel suggested, noticing the grateful easing of Dean's muscles at the idea.

 

"That'd be great. So. I guess I'll see you in the morning?" Dean scratched at his neck again, and Castiel nodded.

 

"In the morning. Of course." He watched as Dean made his way down the hall and closed the bedroom door behind him.

 

Usually, in a situation like this, a Guardian would cloak himself and watch his assignment sleep. Dean was different, though. Dean could see through Castiel's cloaking, and Dean had specifically requested to be left alone while he was resting. And, of course, Castiel understood the human's reasoning. Dean had been only a boy when he had awoken to the sight of a demon at the foot of his bed.

 

Of course, Dean wasn't aware of the demonic blood flowing through the home-intruder's veins, and the five-year-old had cried out for his mother. It was natural, an instict that every human child is instilled with. She came running-- yet another human reflexatory action, a mother protecting her child-- and that is when the demon turned his focus on the widowed Mary Winchester.

Mary Winchester, who didn't back down from the fight, despite the demon's strength.

Mary Winchester, who defended her boy until he took her last breath.

Mary Winchester, who sacrificed herself so that Dean could live.

 

Castiel was pulled from the memory by an unfamiliar sensation crawling down his face. He swatted at his face, making a completely shocked sound when his fingers came away wet. He was... Crying?

 

The angel glanced up at the feeling of another presence in the room, wings flaring to show his defensive state, but his demeanor changed when he saw who was standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

 

"Balthazar." Castiel lowered his wings, leaning back against the counter.

 

"Thought I'd check on you, Cassy. First day, huh?" The blonde angel strode across the kitchen and hopped up on the counter next to Castiel, sitting with his legs dangling from the edge of the marble.

 

"I am... Adjusting." Castiel sniffed, wiping at his eyes again. "What is wrong with me, brother? Why do I feel so sad?"

 

"They're called emotions, Cassy. Didn't Zachariah explain any of this to you?"

 

"He said nothing of human feelings. Just that I needed to protect Dean." Castiel grumbled, slightly irritated.

 

"The bastard. He must not like you." Balthazar laughed as he spoke, his British accent enveloping his words gracefully.

"Don't speak poorly of him, Balthazar. He is a Seraph."

 

"Whatever." Balthazar shook his head. "We're getting off point. Human exposure, Cassy. The longer you are around humans, the more you start to feel like them."

 

"So..." Castiel thought over his brothers words. "I am feeling sadness because Dean is feeling sadness?"

 

"No, you daft idiot." Balthazar ran a hand through the younger angel's hair, causing Castiel to growl in frustration. "You are feeling sad because you're sad. It's not a transference of emotion, it's a blossoming of it."

 

Castiel didn't respond. He didn't know how.

 

"There are many wonderful human pleasures, Cassy." Balthazar waggled his eyebrows. "But, seeing as how the bedroom door's closed, you won't be experiencing them anytime soon."

 

"I don't know what exactly you are insinuating, but I can only assume it's perverse. Relationships between supernatural creatures and humans are  not only forbidden, they are an abomination." Castiel clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

 

"You were always such a stick-in-the-mud, Cassy. Human beings are beautiful creatures. Didn't Father want us to love them?"

 

"You're on the verge of blasphemy, brother."

 

"He's a pretty thing, though, isn't he?" Balthazar gave Castiel a languid grin. "From the way Gabe was talking, Mr. Winchester was quite a prize to be won. I can certainly see why."

 

Another unfamiliar feeling was rolling through Castiel's chest. It bubbled and burned and made his fingers shake. Castiel decided that he did not like human emotion. Before he could express this thought, however, he found himself throwing Balthazar against the far wall of the kitchen.

 

"You will not touch him."

 

"Woah, woah." Balthazar held his hands up. " I surrender, Hoss."

 

Castiel stepped away from the other angel, a contemplative look on his face. "I have no idea why I  just-- I'm sorry, brother. Forgive me."

 

"Anger's a tricky one to handle." Balthazar brushed himself off. "No harm done. So, other than the obvious issues, how are you?"

 

"He could see through my cloaking. I had to reveal myself to him."

 

"It's not unheard of. There are special cases, and like I said, Dean Winchester has been the talk of every Seraph and archangel today." Balthazar grinned. "I'm proud of you, Cassy. This is a big deal, obviously, and you were chosen."

 

"But why me, Balthazar? What if I'm the wrong choice?"

 

He didn't miss the way the other angel stiffened at his words. Or the slight catch of breath just before his questions were answered.

 

With another question, no less.

 

"Are you... Are you doubting, brother?"

 

"Only myself." Castiel spoke honestly. "There were thousands to choose from. What if I mess up? What if Dean gets hurt?"

 

That thought sent a spiraling wave of panic and nausea through him. Unlike humans, when faced with a sense of fear, angels do not cry for their mothers.

 

"Father, help me." Castiel doubled over, feeling his insides lurch.

 

"Stay with me." Balthazar dragged Castiel to the couch, laying him down. "Maybe you should sleep."

 

"I'm not familiar with how sleep is accomplished." Castiel took in deep breaths.

 

"Close your eyes." Blathazar commanded, and Castiel did so without hesitation. "And relax."

 

"Brother, I-"

 

"Whatever is plaguing you, Cassy, let it go." The older angel cut him off. "Dean Winchester is just fine right now. He is asleep in his bed, and he is safe."

 

Castiel felt warmth travel through him at his brother's words. He sighed, and felt the storm inside him calming. He thought of Dean, smiling as he ate his eggs. He thought of Dean, grinning as he embraced his brother. He thought of Dean, whistling happily as he wiped down the bar.

 

Castiel thought of Dean.

 

And he slept.


	3. Waiting for a Light to Come On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Okay then.” Dean’s grin was wide and toothy, and Castiel found that he appreciated the way the skin around the human’s eyes folded together to create small wrinkles—a testament to how genuine his smile was. Dean moved around the kitchen, pulling a pan from underneath the cabinet and a loaf of bread from on top of the microwave. “So, explain this… Guardianship?”
> 
> “I have been assigned to watch over you.” Castiel stated simply.
> 
> “I got that much out of you yesterday.” Dean sighed, cracking the eggs into a bowl. “Why?”
> 
> “I have asked that same question recently.” Castiel spoke slowly, thinking over his conversation with Balthazar last night.
> 
> “You’re avoiding the question.” Dean pointed out with a sigh, but Castiel was distracted by the rapturous smell coming from the skillet.
> 
> “You have to be more specific, Dean.” Castiel tried to peer around the human to see what was in the pan, but he couldn’t.
> 
> “Specific how?” Dean grumbled, annoyance filling his tone, but Castiel just smiled.
> 
> “Do you want to know why you were chosen, or why I was assigned to guard you? Or why we protect humans at all? Or-“
> 
> “All of them, Cas. Tell me everything.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from "Cold Desert" by Kings of Leon.

Dreaming was a new and interesting experience for Castiel. He wasn't used to walking and speaking in a world so covered in the fog of unconsciousness, and when he awoke with a start, it took him longer than it should have to place where he was. Castiel scowled. He did not like sleeping, and he couldn't even remember what he had been dreaming about. He heard the rustling of sheets coming from Dean's room, and he immediately sat up on the couch. His limbs were stiff and his scowl deepened. He should have known better than to listen to Balthazar.

While usually brimming with good intentions, the Messenger was known for his likeness to humanity. This was not completely unusual, of course. Anna had once chosen to remove herself from Heaven to walk among the humans "for research purposes." Castiel knew, though, that she was fascinated by their nature, by the way they felt and how they were so weak and yet so strong at once. Castiel knew this, because he felt the same way. He was enraptured by such simple creatures being so complex and big on the inside, and how, even with the free will that his Father had given them, they still managed to choose to love more than they did to hate.

Love. It was a foreign concept to angels. Yes, they felt a certain camaraderie towards each other, some more than others, but the idea of love or affection was almost unheard of. The sound of bedsprings pulled the angel from his reverie, and he stood as Dean entered the living room. He watched as the human jumped upon seeing him, and he was instantly confused

“I did not mean to startle you.” Castiel spoke, an odd stirring filling his stomach as Dean eyed him.

 “I thought you didn’t sleep.” Dean frowned, changing the subject, and Castiel frowned.

“How did you know I slept?” The angel tilted his head to show his confusion—that’s what humans did, right?—and Dean chuckled.

“You could use an ironing.”

Castiel looked down at himself and understood. The coat he was wearing had been wadded underneath him for most of the night, and his dress shirt was wrinkled as well. It was clear evidence of his delve into humanity. He was amazed. It would have been so easy to straighten the clothes out with the snap of his fingers, but he had a sudden desire to dive in completely—to experience exactly what Anna had experienced.

“How do I… Fix them? The human way?”

“Breakfast first.” Dean mumbled, running a hand through his mussed hair and causing it to stick out in almost every direction. Castiel then wondered what his own hair looked like after a night of sleeping. This was all so new, and he wanted to know every single detail. “And while we’re eating,” Dean continued, fixing him with a stare. “An explanation.”

Castiel nodded in response, following Dean into the kitchen and, for the first time noticing what the human was wearing. He wore a dark grey T-shirt and a pair of black cotton pants that kept sliding down his hips. A white drawstring hung loosely from the pants, and Castiel felt the need to tug on the white threaded cord to secure Dean’s pants in place. He didn’t, though. Instead, he hopped up onto the counter the way Balthazar had last night.

“You eat?” Dean had opened the fridge and was fishing through it. He turned to look at Castiel over his shoulder, as the angel thought over his answer.

“I could, technically. I never have before, though.” He nodded as he spoke, satisfied with his own answer. He felt that his human communication was blossoming rather well. Another emotion swelled within him, and he recognized it as pride.

“Wanna try?” Dean stood upright, setting a carton of eggs, a gallon of milk, and a stick of butter on the counter before closing the refrigerator.

“Yes.” He spoke without thinking, without hesitation, and the look of amusement that crossed Dean’s face was what a human might call priceless.

“Okay then.” Dean’s grin was wide and toothy, and Castiel found that he appreciated the way the skin around the human’s eyes folded together to create small wrinkles—a testament to how genuine his smile was. Dean moved around the kitchen, pulling a pan from underneath the cabinet and a loaf of bread from on top of the microwave. “So, explain this… Guardianship?”

“I have been assigned to watch over you.” Castiel stated simply.

“I got that much out of you yesterday.” Dean sighed, cracking the eggs into a bowl. “Why?”

“I have asked that same question recently.” Castiel spoke slowly, thinking over his conversation with Balthazar last night.

“You’re avoiding the question.” Dean pointed out with a sigh, but Castiel was distracted by the rapturous smell coming from the skillet.

“You have to be more specific, Dean.” Castiel tried to peer around the human to see what was in the pan, but he couldn’t.

“Specific how?” Dean grumbled, annoyance filling his tone, but Castiel just smiled.

“Do you want to know why you were chosen, or why I was assigned to guard you? Or why we protect humans at all? Or-“

“All of them, Cas. Tell me everything.” Dean shook his head, looking over his shoulder at him.

“Very well.” Castiel paused for dramatic effect, a small smirk on his face. He was feeling more comfortable with every minute that passed, and it was an unusually pleasant sensation. “There is, over every living thing, a Great Plan. Men and angels, even demons," he watched Dean stiffen at the word, "hold a thread to this plan, Dean. Each thread is intersected, overlapped in ways that are confounding even to me. Every living thing has a destiny. Every single human is important. It is the job of angels to make sure that lines don’t get crossed or cut prematurely.”

“Okay, so, let me see if I’ve got this right.” Dean pulled two plates from the cabinet above his head and filled them, keeping his back to Castiel. “You’re making sure that I don’t screw things up?”

“Of course not, Dean. You are important.” Castiel felt awed. How could he Dean think so little of himself? “I was sent to make sure that you are kept safe, that you are given the opportunity to fulfill your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Dean turned, the two plates balanced precariously in one hand as he reached into the refrigerator for something he had forgotten. He moved toward the table, and Castiel followed.

“I do not know specifics, Dean. Even if I did, I could not reveal them to you.” The angel looked at him as if the notion was obvious.

“Fine.” Dean sat the plate down, and took a seat in the chair at the head of the small table. “So, every human has a Guardian angel?”

“No.” Castiel sat next to the human, looking over the contents of his plate. There were pieces of bread stacked high, and each piece looked to be coated in egg. “What are these?”

“French toast.” Dean uncapped the bottle he had grabbed from the fridge, and poured copious amounts of the sticky liquid over the top of Castiel’s food. “So, if not every human get a Guardian, then why do I?”

Castiel had dreaded this question. He poked at the soggy bread with his fork before touching the tip of his tongue with the metal, collecting some of the syrup in his mouth. It was divine. Castiel cut a piece of bread into a manageable size and stuffed it into his mouth.  
“Oh my.” He spoke around the bite, and a small, choked groan escaped his lips without his permission. "This is wonderful.”

He could feel Dean’s eyes on him as he shoved bite after bite into his mouth until his plate was empty.

“You’re avoiding the question again.” Dean finally spoke, cutting a piece of his own toast.

“Dean, there are rules—regulations pertaining to who gets assigned a Guardian. You had the appropriate credentials.” Castiel sighed, licking a drop of syrup from the corner of his mouth. He hoped that would be enough of an explanation, and the subject could change without having to mention Mary.

“Credentials?” Dean raised a brow, cutting another piece and setting it on Castiel’s plate with a small smile. It was a smile Castiel couldn't return. “What kind of credentials?”

Castiel gathered the bite on his fork and put it into his mouth before he spoke. He thought of the wording written on the scrolls. “In order for a human to obtain a Guardian, another human must find him or her worthy of dying for.”

Dean froze, mid-chew.

He swallowed. “Someone thinks that much of me?”

Castiel’s stomach was full of French toast and this uneasy feeling that he didn’t like. “Thought.” He corrected, choosing his words carefully. “Someone thought that much of you.”

He could see the human visibly shrink away from the words.

“My mom.” He spoke slowly, trying to keep the words inside.

“Yes, Dean. Your mother.” Castiel nodded in confirmation that Dean didn’t need.

“Credentials?” Dean stood from his seat. “You call the ability to take human life a credential?”

“No, Dean.” Castiel shook his head. He remained seated, looking up at the human blankly. “Human life is precious. The fact that your mother found you worthy enough to…” He paused, taking a breath. “It makes you special.”

Dean sat down, resting his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel wanted to reach for him, to offer something comforting, but he kept his hands in his lap. He reached his mind out, feeling tentatively around the edge of Dean's subconscious, and the human's thoughts and feelings invaded his head. Castiel tried to shift through them, searching for something that would offer consolation, but the guilt was overwhelming to the angel.

"It wasn't your fault, Dean."

The human shook his head, and Castiel got the feelig that the subjet woukd not be spoken of again. "So, tell me about you. How many humans have you guarded? Why were you chosen for me?"

Castiel paused, not knowing how to answer. "I suppose I should be completely honest with you, Dean." He leaned back in his chair, watching as the human frowned. "Up until yesterday, I was a soldier. A warrior. You are my first assignment."

Dean nodded, narrowing his eyes in thought. "So, why the sudden change in vocation, Cas? Did you just get tired of fighting? What do angels fight, anyway? You mentioned demons earlier..?"

"Mostly demons." Castiel nodded. “Among other things.” He paused to take a breath, and the action was slightly comforting to him. “I didn’t choose to be a Guardian, Dean. Angels don’t get to choose their path of life the way that humans do. Free will is a reward for God’s most loved creatures. Each angel is brought into creation with a purpose, a job chosen for them by Throne angels. Soldiers are chosen by Dominion angels to become Guardians.”

“Wait.” Dean furrowed his brow. “How many different types of angels are there?”

“Eight.” Castiel stated. This was easy conversation to him, a known topic with known answers that came effortlessly and without too much thought. “There are Guardians, who are as I said, former Soldiers. They choose Soldiers to be Guardians, because they are the most able to protect their assignments due to their life of battle. Thrones are balance-keepers of sorts. They oversee human and Guardian interaction and make sure that the Guardians are doing their job properly. Dominions are in charge of assigning Guardians. Then, there are Cherubs, Messengers, Healers, and, of course, Archangels."

Dean nodded, soaking up the information like a sponge. "So, why you?"

"I do not question my orders, Dean. I do as I am told. Anna, the Seraph that overlooks the Dominions, chose me to watch over you, so that is what I will do." Castiel was pleased with his own answer, although he still felt unsure that he was the correct person for such a job.

"You don't have a choice?" Dean  narrowed his eyes again, this time there was something darker behind the expression.

"As I said, free will is a gift to humans alone." Castiel then remembered something important. "You mustn't tell any other humans about me, though. It could destroy everything."

"So, how do I explain the flighty guy with wings who follows me around?" Dean raised a brow.

"Well..." Castiel fidgeted nervously. "Usually, angels are able to shift in and out of a human's line of vision. My cloaking did not affect you, though. You could see me even when you weren't supposed to."

"But it works on everyone else?" Dean frowned, a small line appearing between his brows.

"Yes." Castiel shrugged, trying to ease the human. "It happens. Some humans are too attuned to their surroundings for the cloaking to affect them. It's nothing to worry about, Dean."

The human stood and stretched, sighing happily before taking both empty plates to the sink. "So... Laundry? I've got a pile that needs to be done, and I guess you need to learn anyway."

Castiel nodded, standing as well. He followed Dean to his bedroom door and paused, remaining in  the hallway. He didn't want to make Dean feel as if his space was being invaded in any way. Castiel peered inside, though, watching Dean dig through drawers. When the man emerged from the bedroom, he held out a bundle of clothes to the angel.

"You'll have to change. These might be a little big on you, but they should do for now. We'll go shopping later this week." Dean scratched the back of his head.

"This is very kind, Dean, but I can acquire my own clothing." Castiel smiled meekly, watching as the man before him deflated. "...But this will do for today." He took the wad of clothing gratefully and, with a thought, he was dressed.

Dean blinked, stumbling back into the wall of the hallway.

"I apologize for startling you." Castiel held out his old clothes, keeping everything carefully wrapped in the trench coat. Dean took them without question, hesitating for a moment before moving down the hall and into the laundry room. Castiel followed.

He glanced down at himself thoughtfully. He was wearing a black cotton T-shirt with an unfamiliar logo on the front of it and a pair of denim pants that were a touch too big. They hung on his hips much like Dean's cotton pants hung on him.

"When you get new clothes, try not to get something that stands out so much." Dean unrolled the trench coat, allowing the rest of Castiel's clohing to fall into the floor among Dean's laundry. "This coat is..."

"Warm." Castiel spoke up. "I quite like it."

He toyed with the fabric at the hem of his (Dean's) shirt, slightly distracted by the softness of the material against his skin.

"Because nothing says 'inconspicuous' like a flasher coat." Dean grumbled, reading the tag on the back of the coat.

"I don't understand. What's a 'flasher coat'?" Castiel tilted his head again, and Dean laughed, tossing the article of clothing aside.

"It's dry-clean-only." He shifted through the clothes on the floor, separating them by color. Castiel watched intently. When Dean picked up the darker clothes and started shoving them into the washing machine, the angel stepped closer. Dean poured a capful of liquid over the clothes and shut the machine, turning the dial until the sound of water filled the room.

"Okay." Dean turned to face Castiel. "You wash like colors with like colors. Darks with darks, lights with lights, and so on and so forth. Towels wash seperately." He nodded, pointing to the detergent. "A capful of soap per load. No more than that, or we'll have a bubble invasion on our hands."

Castiel frowned at that. "One would think there would be more of a mess in the floor than on your hands."

Dean paused, staring straight at him for a moment before he doubled over.

Dean's laugh was... Castiel searched for a proper word.

Entrancing.

He watched as the human crumpled underneath the weight of his mirth, clutching at his stomach as he eased into a sitting position on the floor. When Dean looked up, his eyes were red, and rogue chuckles were still bubbling past his lips. "Dude."

Castiel frowned. "I don't understand what I said that was so humorous."

Dean silenced then, shaking his head. "Your socializing needs to be worked on."

Castiel shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit opposite Dean.

"So, I apologize in advance for the fact that life will be pretty boring from here on out." Dean stretched his legs out, leaning back against the washing machine.

Castiel furrowed his brow. "I don't understand your meaning."

"My meaning, Cas," Dean sighed. "is that, sadly, my life is devoid of any form of excitement."

"Don't be ridiculous, Dean. Just last night, I chased a demon out of your bar." He looked smug as he spoke, but the look of alarm on Dean's face sobered him.

 "What? A demon? At The Roadhouse?" His voice took on a slightly higher pitch, and Castiel didn't like it. He preferred the deep rumbling timbre of Dean's voice when he was calm.

"I took care of it. I probably saved your brother's life, too." Castiel tried to calm him.

"Sammy? Sammy was in danger? Cas, why didn't you say anything?"

"I took care of it." The angel repeated. "Your brother just has... Questionable taste in women."

"Ruby?!"Dean grimaced. "Sammy was banging a demon?" Dean shook his head, but stopped suddenly. "Did you... Kill her?"

Castiel made a face. "No, Dean. I didn't have to. She realized that I was assigned to you, and swore to never go near your brother again."

"You scared her that much?" Dean spoke softly.

"I could have burned her from her body and sent her to hell in a matter of milliseconds." Castiel shrugged, watching Dean let out a shaky breath.

"Thank you." He said the words lowly. "If something had happened to Sam..." He shook his head.

"It's what I'm here for. A demon around your brother means a demon around you."

Dean looked troubled at that, but his answer was cut off by a knock on the front door. Dean stood, looking surprised.

"Whoever it is won't be able to see me, Dean. Calm down." The angel stood as well, pulling up his (Dean's) pants.

"Right." Dean nodded, taking a breath before leading Castiel back down the hallway.

The angel sat down on the couch, shifting slightly into his cloaking before Dean opened the door.

Castiel watched as Sam barged in his voice pitched higher than it was last night.

"Dean, I can't find Ruby. She's not at home, she's not answering my calls or texts, she's not-" Sam paused, keeping his eyes on Dean, but Castiel could see the taller man's body shifting nervously.

"Sam?" Dean frowned.

"You, um." Sam ran a hand through his hair, his eyes landing on Castiel. "Sorry. I, um. I didn't know you had company."


	4. My Love Has Concrete Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It wasn’t your fault.” Castiel spoke up this time, and Dean gave him that look again—the one that made the angel’s stomach roll.
> 
> “Cas…” Dean shook his head. “Anyway, I just figured that you should know. Sam is going to assume that you and I are… And, I mean, I don’t know how that’s viewed where you’re from. If you need to leave or-“
> 
> “God is completely indifferent to sexual orientation, Dean. And, even though I look male to you, I am nothing more than a multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent.” Castiel almost smiled. “Although, relationships between humans and non-humans are frowned upon, so Sam can believe whatever you need him to believe as long as neither of us acts upon his suspicion.”
> 
> Dean’s cheeks were filling with blood, and Castiel found it fascinating. “Yeah, well, that won’t be a problem. I mean you’re not even… My type.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, you lovely people.
> 
> Here's chapter four.
> 
> I love you guyssss. A lot.
> 
> This chapter title comes from "Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence + The Machine.

Of all of his Father's creatures, Castiel had always had a soft spot for fish. He remembered, a long time ago, watching closely as a small grey fish crawled out of the ocean. He remembered a voice, deep and commanding, telling him not to step on that fish. There had been big plans for that fish. He remembered watching that fish start a chain reaction on the earth, evolving, growing into new and exciting things that he had never seen before. He remembers that fish now as he watches Dean's mouth work open and closed, looking for words that he can't seem to find. It reminded Castiel of that fish, taking its first breath of oxygen and learning how to live. Dean was searching for oxygen, an explanation for his brother, but he was slowly suffocating on the silence that had filled the room.

Castiel stood. "Hello."

It seemed simple enough, and Sam's eyes moved from Dean to him, so Castiel felt a small surge of accomplishment.

"Hi." Sam glanced at his brother again before moving toward the angel, hand outstretched in greeting. “I’m-“

“Sam, I know.” Castiel cut him off, taking the extended hand and shaking it in the way that he had seen humans do. It was an odd custom, but Castiel knew that humans were often comforted by physical contact.

“You do?” Sam gave him a nervous smile, turning to the still silent Dean for a fraction of a second before focusing on Castiel once more.

“I do.” Castiel nodded. “I know that you’re 6’4”, you’re thirty years old, and you’re a good person despite having… questionable taste in women.” The angel paused for a moment before nodding. “I’m Castiel.”

“Cas.” Dean finally spoke up, and Castiel was grateful. He could tell that Sam was getting anxious, though he wasn’t aware of why. “His name is Cas. He’s- he’s my new roommate.”

Sam’s puzzled gaze turned to fall on his brother. “Roommate?”

“You’re always telling me how I’m working myself into the ground trying to pay for this apartment by myself.” Dean’s words came easily, and Castiel studied the way he leaned casually against the door frame, letting off an air of unhurriedness. “Cas here has been looking for somewhere to stay. And he can help out.”

Sam frowned, looking Castiel over again before sighing. “Cas?” He tested the name on his tongue. “Cas, could you give us a minute? To, um… talk?”

Castiel nodded at once and turned to make his way back into the laundry room. His curiosity got the better of him once he heard Sam’s hushed tone, and he tilted his head slightly, listening through the wall with ease.

“Dean, what’s going on?”

“Nothing, man. I just thought I’d help the guy out, y’know.”

“Dean, he’s wearing your clothes.”

Castiel frowned, having forgotten that minute detail about the situation. He held the hem of his (Dean’s) shirt between his fingers and rolled the material experimentally, waiting for Dean’s response.

“It’s not like that, Sam.”

“It’s not? Because you can tell me if it is. I’d like to think that you already knew that, that you trusted me after what happened with Aaron.”

“This isn’t like Aaron, Sam. Cas is… He’s-“

“Dean. I don’t wanna make you talk about it if you’re not ready, but it hurts that you’ve kept this from me for so long. How long has he been staying here? How long have you known him?”

“That’s not the point, Sam. The point is, I’m not into dudes anymore. And, even if I was, Cas isn’t… My type.”

“You certainly seem to be his.”

That brought Castiel up short. He narrowed his eyes at the wall, demanding an explanation.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean sounded just as perplexed.

“He looks at you as if nothing else matters.”

“I’ve done a lot for him, is all.” Dean’s voice took on that easy tone again, and Castiel relaxed into the sound, leaning against the wall. “Look, he’s wearing my clothes because he doesn’t have any more.”

“Oh.”

There was silence for a while, before Castiel heard Sam speak up again.

“Why didn’t you say something to begin with, Dean? You didn’t have to lie.”

“I didn’t lie. I just figured that it wasn’t my business to tell—It still isn’t.”

“So, he’s going to help you with rent?”

“I’m going to give him Gordon’s old spot at the bar. I could use the help, and he can feel as if he’s earning his keep.”

“Okay, yeah.” Sam went quiet again, and Castiel found himself moving back down the hallway.

“Hey.” Dean’s eyes met his, and there was a desperate twinkle in his eye. Castiel could feel the man’s anxiety radiating off of him in waves.

“I apologize if I’ve caused any disposition between the two of you." The angel spoke slowly, giving Dean an almost imperceptible nod of his head. He saw the man relax out of the corner of his eye, but his gaze stayed on Sam. “I intend on helping your brother in any way possible. I owe him a lot.”

“I understand, man.” Sam nodded, and Dean coughed.

“That’s enough of this deep-rooted emotional shit, if you ask me. Let’s have lunch.”

Castiel perked up at that—more human food.

The two followed Dean into the kitchen, Sam stealing respective glances at Castiel every few seconds. “Dean tells me he’s giving you a spot at the bar.”

“He is.” Castiel nodded, and gave a sheepish smile. “I am a little nervous. It seems that I do not quite excel at human interaction.”

Sam laughed at that, and Castiel was perplexed. “So, how did you meet Dean?”

“We met in the bar.” Dean answered for him, and the angel was, once again, thankful for the interruption. “There’s a certain trait that bartenders have, Sammy. People like to tell them their problems.”

“Speaking of the bar,” Sam’s voice took on a nervous edge to it. “I haven’t seen Ruby since last night, Dean. I’m getting worried.”

Castiel saw Dean go rigid. “She, um… She seemed shifty to me.”

“Shifty?” Sam sat at the table, looking at his older brother. “How?”

“I don’t know, Sam. Just… Shifty. I don’t like her. Maybe you should just let her go?”

Dean was pulling items out of the refrigerator, and Castiel watched him from across the kitchen, observing every movement so that he’d be able to recreate whatever Dean planned on making.

“Let her go?” Sam stood. “I think… I think I might love her, Dean. I can’t just let her go because you think she’s… Shifty.”

“Love, Sammy?” Dean shook his head. “How long have you even known her? You didn’t mention a girlfriend the last time we spoke.”

“Apparently, time isn’t a detail when it comes to things like that.” Sam scratched at the back of his head. “It only takes you… A month?”

It sounded as if Dean’s gasp was punched out of him. Castiel narrowed his eyes, sensing the man’s distress.

“Leave.” Dean closed his eyes, leaning back against the counter.

“Dean, I didn’t-“

“Get out!” Dean turned his back on Sam, bracing himself against the countertop.

Castiel watched as Sam turned and left, slamming the front door behind him. He waited for a moment before he spoke up. “Dean?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

And the conversation was over.

Castiel watched in silence as Dean prepared hamburgers. They tasted exquisite, but the despaired atmosphere in the kitchen made them taste vaguely sour in the angel’s mouth. He still smiled, practically inhaling he burger when he found that Dean appreciated the reaction. After lunch though, Dean went to his room.

They didn’t speak again until the next day. After finishing the laundry, Dean had made a pot of tomato rice soup for lunch, and Castiel was eating it enthusiastically when the silence was finally broken.

“My mom used to make this for me when I was little.” Dean stirred his soup, staring into the liquid as if it held all the answers he sought.

“Are you alright?” Castiel set his spoon down, watching the human intently.

“Aaron.” Dean’s eyes never lifted from his soup.

“Dean, you owe me no answers.” Castiel fiddled with the lapels of his trench coat, suddenly very nervous and in need of something for his hands to do.

“I know, Cas, but you’re probably curious.” Dean finally looked up and him, and Castiel’s chest ached at the sight of the man looking so broken.

“If I truly wanted to know, Dean, I would have asked.” He answered with a simple observation.

“And if I refused to tell you?”

Castiel frowned. “If I felt that the information was of grave importance, Dean, I would have asked one of my superiors or looked into your mind until I found what I desired. I didn’t feel the need to do that, though.”

"Wait, you can look into my head?!" Dean looked taken aback by the information, and the tips of his ears burned bright pink. "Christ, Cas, stay out of my head!"

"I would never invade your privacy like that unless it was an absolute last resort, Dean." Castiel frowned, his stomach aching at the idea of Dean thinking he'd be so intrusive.

“Yeah. Sorry. Anyway. Aaron." Dean looked back down at his soup, and Castiel could feel the other man’s heartbreak. "He died."

It stilled him, throbbing along the insides of his body in ways that made him feel like he was going break into pieces.

“I’m sorry.”

“It was an overdose. Cocaine. He was a junkie.” Dean spoke again. “I said I’d help him, y’know? That I’d fight him tooth and nail to get him clean. The first few weeks were… Challenging, but he wanted to stop.”

“You had feelings for him.” Castiel made the statement slowly, afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“I did.” Dean nodded. “After two weeks of being clean, I told him. The next day, he was… Gone.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Castiel spoke up this time, and Dean gave him that look again—the one that made the angel’s stomach roll.

“Cas…” Dean shook his head. “Anyway, I just figured that you should know. Sam is going to assume that you and I are… And, I mean, I don’t know how that’s viewed where you’re from. If you need to leave or-“

“God is completely indifferent to sexual orientation, Dean. And, even though I look male to you, I am nothing more than a multi-dimensional wavelength of celestial intent.” Castiel almost smiled. “Although, relationships between humans and non-humans are frowned upon, so Sam can believe whatever you need him to believe as long as neither of us acts upon his suspicion.”

Dean’s cheeks were filling with blood, and Castiel found it fascinating. “Yeah, well, that won’t be a problem. I mean you’re not even… My type.”

“I heard you say that yesterday to your brother. What exactly is your ‘type’?”

“Um.” Dean chewed on his bottom lip, glaring at his soup. “Female? Blonde, usually. Maybe the occasional redhead? Aaron was my gay thing, and I don’t intend to have any more of those.”

“Very well.” Castiel nodded, picking up his spoon again. “Do you have to work tonight?”

“Yeah. I figured you could come in with me and get to know the rest of the guys. You can start working maybe this weekend?”

“That sounds fine. As I told Sam, I am happy to help. I am fairly nervous about my socialization skills, though.”

“That’s why you’re coming in with me tonight and not starting until the weekend. I’m going to teach you how to not be so… Awkward?” Dean spoke the last word as if he was uncertain whether or not it was the term he was looking for.

“Kind of like lessons in humanity?” Castiel was pleased with the idea.

“Exactly, Cas. Humanity lessons.” Dean grinned. "What d'ya think?"

"I think that would be wonderful."

*******

Castiel felt an unpleasant feeling roiling inside him. He took a deep breath (a human reflex that he found himself comforted by) and looked at Dean again. “I wouldn’t oppose to remaining hidden tonight.”

“How adorable.” Dean chuckled. “The big bad angel is scared.”

“I’m not scared, Dean. Angels are meant to fear no one but God Himself.” Castiel frowned.

“Nerves, then?” The human’s smile was fading, and Castiel discovered that he did not like the look on him. “Don’t be nervous, Cas. Just follow me and watch what I do.”

“I would be following and watching either way.” The angel grumbled, deciding that intermingling with humankind may have been a bad decision.

“Listen, dude.” Dean turned to look at where Castiel was sitting at the bar, sighing heavily. “I can’t make you do something you don’t wanna do. But the fact of the matter is, we need to get you acquainted with people here if Sam’s going to believe our story. So, we can start tonight or tomorrow, or whenever, or you could just tell Sammy that you’re a freaking angel and we won’t have to worry about appearances.”

“This would be a great deal less problematic if you and your brother weren’t impervious to my cloaking.” Castiel shot back, his voice pitched lower. He was getting angry again, and he didn’t like the feeling. Castiel felt an odd pressure building inside him, and he gritted his teeth against the sensation, worried that he might lash out at Dean the way he had lashed out at Balthazar. He narrowed his eyes and was gone before Dean could protest his absence.

Castiel kept a part of his mind linked with Dean, needing to be aware if there was any danger threatening his ward. He skipped through seven different versions of heaven before finally landing where he needed to be. Or, who he needed to be with, rather.

“Castiel.” Uriel’s voice was surprised. He was sitting on a bench in an empty park, his wings shaking effortlessly behind him as they were alerted to another’s presence. “I’m shocked to see you.”

“I needed a break. Humans are…” Castiel sighed and sat next to his brother, knowing that he wasn’t going to be pressured to finish his sentence. He was sure that the frustration was radiating off of him in waves. He shook out his own wings, stretching them carefully and making sure that the appendages didn’t brush against his brother’s.

“I feel sorry for you.” Uriel spoke slowly, the commanding lower pitch in his voice lifting slightly. “When I was called to witness to your fighting skill, I was afraid that I was going to be assigned your ward. I am thankful that it is you instead of me, but I would have wished it on someone less devoted as you, brother.”

Castiel flinched at the words. He knew that most angels shared Uriel’s opinion on humans, and he couldn’t fathom why. Balthazar, Anna, and Gabriel were the only spoken-of human sympathizers in all of Heaven.

“Both Winchesters have the ability to see beyond my cloaking.” He finally spoke. “So, I can either reveal to Sam Winchester that I am a Guardian, or I can put on the air of humanity for the sake of pretenses.”

“I offer my deepest condolences.” Uriel chuckled. “The thought of you swarming with humans is quite humorous, though.”

Castiel grimaced. “I’d rather not think about it. Zachariah would no doubt refuse the idea of me revealing myself to Sam, so I suppose I have no choice but to comply with the human’s wishes.”

“I truly am sorry, brother.”

And he sounded sincere when he spoke the words. The thought made Castiel give Uriel a small smile. “I must go. Thank you for listening.”

“I’m always here, Castiel.” Uriel clapped him on the shoulder before disappearing.

The angel sat alone in the park, shuffling through every moment that had happened since being reassigned. He needed to find a way to deal with human emotion taht didn't end in him running from Dean. The dilemma only caused Castiel despair. He was helpless, really, defenseless against the onslaught of the feelings that had overtaken him. He wasn’t surprised when another angel flew in beside him. When he glanced up, expecting Balthazar, he was taken aback by seeing Zachariah there.

“How’s Mr. Winchester?” The seraph smirked, and Castiel averted his eyes to the ground.

“He saw through my cloaking, but I’m guessing you already knew as much.” He tried to keep his voice even, to not allow the emotion to cause him to show his superior any disrespect.

“He did? How marvelous.” Zachariah chuckled. “Dean Winchester is a special case, Castiel. This assignment is a privilege. Why are you up here avoiding your duties?”

“I apologize for any misconceptions you may have of me, brother." Castiel scowled at the grass under his feet.

"What makes you think I have misconceived you, Castiel?" Zachariah's voice took on an amused air.

"Why else would you neglect to tell me that the Winchesters would be able to see me? Or that human emotions would start to impress upon me?"

"You should watch how you speak, little one." Zachariah said lowly, and Castiel chewed on his lower lip.

“I mean no disrespect, brother. Please accept my apologies.” The younger angel spoke deliberately, choosing his words carefully. It was an odd sensation, to feel a slight thrill running through him at the way he had spoken to his superior. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my assignment.”

“You may go.” Zachariah stood and Castiel disappeared.

It took him less than two seconds to find Dean. The bar had opened and he was rustling around in the kitchen while a man with hair longer than Sam tended to the bar.

“I was wondering when you’d come back.” Dean spoke up without turning, somehow knowing he wasn’t alone in the room.

“How did you-?”

“The air feels different when you’re in the room. Charged, somehow.” Dean shrugged, finally turning to face the angel. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know that it can’t be easy for you to suddenly get accustomed to a whole other species.”

“It is I who should apologize. You were right. Unfortunately, being thrust into the human atmosphere has a side effect of acquiring human emotion. Being nervous about things is… New to me.” Castiel looked at his shoes as he confessed. “I am not used to feeling so much.”

“It’s okay, man.” Dean moved forward to clap him on the shoulder, but he flinched when the kitchen doors opened and a woman walked in. She stopped short, staring at the two of them.

“Am I interrupting something here?” She spoke around a smile, and Dean took a step away from Castiel, who was puzzled by the action.

“No, Jess, we were just talking. Um.” Dean scratched at the back of his head. “Come meet Cas. He’s gonna be taking over janitorial duties starting next week.”

“Oh!” The woman came closer and extended her hand to Castiel, who shook it gingerly. “I’m Jess. Dean told us all about you.”

Castiel shot Dean a look and was answered with a sheepish shrug. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jess. I am Castiel.”

“Aw, you’re a sweetie.” Jess blushed, pulling her hand away. “And quite a looker. Dean better keep an eye on you or the ladies ‘round here will eat you up.”

Castiel paled at her words, and Dean laughed, doubling over with the force of his amusement.

“It’s okay, honey. I was only joking.” Jess grinned. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Castiel cleared his throat, nodding slightly at Jess, who turned to look at Dean. "We're almost out of glasses. When will the washer be done?"

"Fifteen minutes?" Dean looked to the machine and nodded again. When Jess nodded and disappeared through the doors, Dean turned to Castiel with a wide grin. "See? Not too bad."

"It could have gone better, I'm afraid." The angel remarked.

"Could've been worse, too Cas. Could've been way worse."


	5. Bury My Heart on the Coals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel groaned, sitting on a bar stool and resting his forehead against the cool wood finish of the bar, seeking some sort of consoling coldness.
> 
> “Castiel?”
> 
> He was close to sobbing when he heard Anna’s voice next to him.
> 
> “What is happening to me, Anna?”
> 
> He knew that he probably should have greeted her another way, showed her the proper respect since she was his superior, but his hands were still shaking.
> 
> “You like him.” Anna replied simply, choosing a seat next to Castiel at the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay. Yes yes yes.  
> This chapter is a day early, but I just found out that I am going to be super busy tomorrow, so. Yeah. Here it is.
> 
> ALSO, super huge happy iLoveYou thanks to the beautiful Lacey for deciding to prove how awesome she is by beta-ing for me. (You kind of complete me.)
> 
> This chapter title is taken from "Ghosts That We Knew" by Mumford and Sons. A+ song, guys. A+ band, also.
> 
> AND I changed the tags oops. They'll be changing as the story progresses, so please keep an eye on them.
> 
> I think that's all I need to say-OH WAIT.  
> Thank you thank you thank you to anyone who is reading this.  
> I love you.  
> Also, if you want to drop me a line on tumblr, you're more than welcome to.  
> (Do people still say "drop me a line"? I don't know.)  
> www.whorstiel.tumblr.com

Castiel met Ash and Bela and Pamela, the other employees working at The Roadhouse. All in all, Dean said that he did quite well, but the angel couldn’t help but notice the spike in Dean’s emotions when Pamela reached out and toyed with the khaki trench coat hanging from his shoulders. Castiel was unsure, really, about all of this. There were an awful lot of emotions radiating from Dean, and the angel wasn’t experienced enough with humans to understand fully what each feeling was.

  
He recognized pride, and it made him smile. Dean knew that acclimatizing to life as a Guardian was hard for Castiel, and the angel felt a swelling of warmth underneath his ribcage at the thought of the human being proud of his adjustments. Another emotion that clouded Dean’s mind was worry. This was a feeling that Castiel knew all too well. After Sam had left and Dean went completely silent, the angel’s concern for his ward had been suffocating, nauseating to the point that Castiel had slept through most of the afternoon. Amusement also trickled along the edges of the human’s mind, and that was a puzzling concept to Castiel—why Dean would find his awkward interactions humorous.

  
Then, there were the emotions that the angel couldn’t identify, such as the boiling heat in the pit of Dean’s stomach. It reminded Castiel vaguely of anger, but it was subdued, muffled by the other emotions pouring out of him. There was a tightness in the human’s chest, something that throbbed and ached painfully whenever Dean would steal glances at him, and this made Castiel uneasy. He didn’t want Dean to hurt, and he didn’t want him to angry with him either. There was another unpleasant feeling that blanketed the two others. It felt as if Dean was conflicted, confused about something that he felt afraid to share with Castiel.

  
The angel watched the human as he pulled a bucket with wheels out of a closet. The crowd had cleared out, and Dean had already locked the front door. Dean fished a mop from the closet as well, sticking it in the bucket and finally turning his gaze to Castiel.

  
“Blink.” Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

  
“I’m sorry?” Castiel was confused. Why would Dean ask him to blink? Angels had no need for it.

  
“You don’t blink, Cas. It’s something that you should start doing in order to appear human. We have to blink. And, typically, no one would pay enough attention to notice, but your eyes are so fucking blue, man, and someone’s gonna notice.” Dean swallowed nervously, scratching at the back of his neck.

  
Castiel blinked once, then twice. “How often,”

  
Blink.

“…should I,”

Blink.

“…do it?”

Dean chuckled, walking towards him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Only about every ten seconds.”

“Oh.” Castiel nodded and blinked.

“So, let’s show you how to do your job.” Dean grinned and Castiel nodded once more.

He blinked again, following Dean to the mop bucket.

“First thing’s first. We take the bucket and mop into the kitchen to fill it with water and cleaner.”

Castiel followed Dean into the kitchen, watching as the human filled the bucket halfway with water and fished a bottle of purple liquid from under the sink. Castiel blinked.

“Three capfuls of this go into the water. No more than that or the floor will be sticky.” He glanced at Castiel then, and the angel nodded once more, remembering to blink as he followed Dean’s movements while he poured a proper amount of liquid cleaner into the bucket.

Dean led him back into the bar, sighing again. “Now, we need to put all the chairs and stools up so that we can have full access to the floor.”

Castiel felt the corner of his mouth tugging upwards as he watched Dean pick up one of the chairs in the corner and set it on top of the table. By the time the human turned to grab the next chair, Castiel heard the gasp punched from Dean’s lips when he realized that the angel had used his grace to put the chairs up with minimal effort.

“Cas?” Dean’s eyes locked with his, and the angel’s smile grew.

“There are advantages to being otherworldly.” Castiel nodded and grabbed the handle of the mop. “So?”

“Oh. Just…” Dean hesitated before stepping forward, and Castiel pinpointed that heat inside of the human battling the ache in his chest, all being smothered by the swirl of conflicted confusion.

He wanted to ask about it, to assure Dean that he was doing his best and that he would try his hardest not to let him down. All thought flew out of Castiel’s mind, though, the minute Dean’s hands wrapped around his on the handle of the mop. Castiel hadn’t even noticed that Dean had moved behind him, the human’s arms wrapping him in what could easily be an embrace from behind.

“Just, um… Move the mop into the strainer.” Dean’s breath was hot against his ear, and Castiel felt his skin prickle from the closeness. He was slightly uncomfortable, but Dean’s hands were so hot on his own as he guided the mop head into the straining compartment of the bucket. Dean released one of his hands, and shuffled closer, pulling the lever on the side of the bucket, his cheek brushing Castiel’s as he did so.

The angel took a deep breath, suddenly more puzzled with his own emotions than the human’s.

Once the mop was wrung, Dean replaced his hand over Castiel’s and lifted the mop, letting the wet part fall to the floor with a squishing sound. Dean led Castiel in wide, back-and-forth circular motions, his breath still hot against the angel’s ear as he nodded.

“That’s perfect, Cas.”

When Dean stepped away, Castiel felt colder. It was an unusual sensation, and he frowned as he mopped. Dean cleared his throat and spoke slowly, still behind Castiel. “Um. Make sure to keep the mop wet or you won’t be doing much good. I, um. I have to go to the bathroom.”

Castiel didn’t even get a chance to turn to look at Dean before he was scurrying to the back of the room where the bathrooms were.

By the time Dean finally returned, Castiel had finished mopping. The angel noticed that the human seemed more relaxed, but there was a blanket of confusion and anger covering him as well. Castiel sighed. he thought it would be best not to ask.

 

 

\----------

 

 

It was approximately 4:30 in the morning when the two of them finally made it home. Dean clapped Castiel on the shoulder and gave him a tired smile.

“Ash is going to run the bar tomorrow. I plan on taking you shopping for more clothes.” He stared disdainfully at the trench coat the angel wore.

Castiel nodded at Dean’s words, slipping the offending item of clothing off of his shoulders and folding it neatly. He heard Dean’s intake of breath and Castiel frowned. Now would be a good time to ask Dean why he had been acting so oddly, but Dean spoke first.

“Can I see your wings again?”

The question caught the angel off guard. “You’ve seen them before, Dean.”

“I know.” He shuffled nervously. “I just-” Dean shook his head then. “Nevermind.”

Castiel’s wings appeared and he raised a brow at the human. “You’ve been acting strangely today, Dean.”

The human nodded, moving behind Castiel to examine the wings closely. The angel fidgeted. “Sorry. I guess I was just nervous about you meeting everyone. How do you make these disappear?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “The human brain is easily manipulated. I can shift them in and out of your vision between corporeal and incorporeal states.” He paused and blinked. “How did I do tonight? I feel as if I could have been a little more eloquent with my verbal exchanges.”

“You did fine. You’re a little awkward, but we can warm you up to people. You’ll get more comfortable with…”

But Castiel could barely hear what Dean was saying. All of his focus was on the human’s hand, which was hovering within inches of his left wing. The angel felt his hands start to shake, and it took a large amount of self-control to keep the feathered appendages still; he could feel them wanting to arch into the human’s touch. Castiel gritted his teeth, shifting minutely away.

“Cas? Are you listening to me?”

“Dean, I-”

But all thought processes were lost when the human’s fingers brushed against one of his feathers. It was merely the slightest touch, but the angel sucked in a deep breath and felt tremors wracking his body. He felt as if his human form was too small to contain him, and that he would surely explode if he didn’t get away from Dean.

So, Castiel did the only logical thing.

He vanished before he could hear Dean’s apology. He landed in The Roadhouse, hands braced against the counter as he experienced the searing heat that Dean usually felt boiling in his stomach. Castiel groaned, sitting on a bar stool and resting his forehead against the cool wood finish of the bar, seeking some sort of consoling coldness.

“Castiel?”

He was close to sobbing when he heard Anna’s voice next to him.

“What is happening to me, Anna?”

He knew that he probably should have greeted her another way, showed her the proper respect since she was his superior, but his hands were still shaking.

“You like him.” Anna replied simply, choosing a seat next to Castiel at the bar. “Calm down, little one.”

Castiel sighed at her words. Of course, he liked Dean. His job would be a lot more difficult if he wasn’t at least cordial to the human. His head was still clouded with the unpleasant feeling, but she had a soothing effect on him. Little one. The words seemed much less offensive when they came from Anna as opposed to when they came from Zachariah.

Ugh. Zachariah.

Castiel’s hands steadied themselves, and Anna reached to grab one of them.

“Are you alright, Castiel?”

“I am perplexed. I have been bombarded with feelings that I have no idea what to do with.” Castiel stared at where her hand was laying on his, comforted by the physical touch.

“Tell me what happened.” Her voice was soft.

“Dean… Mistakenly touched my wings.”

He kept his head down. He didn’t want to see the bewildered look she no doubt was giving him, or the disgusted expression that would soon follow. Of course, Castiel had no idea that Dean had intended on touching him, so it couldn’t necessarily be blamed on him. Nevertheless, the wings are an intimate part of an angel’s anatomy, and they are only touched with the intention of mating. Castiel’s wings had been untouched until five minutes ago.

“And, you let him?” Anna was keeping any emotion from her voice, and it made Castiel uneasy.

“Of course not, sister. I know that intimate relationships between humans and non-humans are frowned upon. Abominations. He touched before I could explain to him that it was inappropriate.” He spoke truthfully, but he didn’t want Dean to get into trouble because of his own mistake. “The fault is mine, though. Dean did not know-”

“Calm down. I’m not going to apprehend him.” Anna chuckled, causing Castiel to calm slightly. “How did you feel when he touched you?”

Castiel felt scandalized. He didn’t want to talk about this with Anna. He didn’t want to talk about it with anyone.

“My wings had never been touched, Anna.” He said the words quickly and felt his face start to heat up.

How perplexing. He was blushing?

“It was an accident, Castiel, and nothing you should worry about. I won’t tell anyone.” She stood then, releasing his hand to pat his shoulder, careful to avoid his wings. “Take a few more moments to calm down before you return to Dean. Don’t stay away for too long, though, or Zachariah will make an appearance.”

Castiel nodded before looking back down at his hands. He turned on the stool, staring at the floor. His wings were still trembling slightly, but the heat in his stomach had quelled. “Anna?”

“Yes, Castiel?” Her tone was patient and he was grateful. Castiel had never felt more lost.

“Are you not disgusted by me?” He kept his gaze lowered as he spoke, choosing each word with the utmost care.

“Why would I be, brother?” Anna took a step closer to him and Castiel focused on the metallic shine of the silver buckle on her black leather shoes.

“I have made too many mistakes as a Guardian. And now? My duties are slacking because of my aggravation at the thought of physical pleasures.”

“Castiel.” He felt hands on his face, lifting his head so that they were eye-to-eye.

The action was unheard of. A mere Guardian meeting yes with a seraph was bounds for severe punishment. He dropped his gaze again so that his eyes focused on her wrists as she held his face, conflicted with how to handle the situation. He could not shrug her off, because that would be disrespectful. And yet, he couldn't meet her eyes.

“Look at me.”

It was a direct order. He could not refuse.

Castiel’s eyes met Anna’s and the seraph smiled. “That’s better.”

Anna took a breath before continuing. “Castiel, you were chosen for a reason. I wish I could explain to you why, but there is nothing I can do to aid your journey, brother. You are special, though.” Her smile was so brilliant that Castiel felt the need to close his eyes. He remained focused, though, her words falling on hungry and helpless ears. “You and Dean Winchester will achieve great things, Castiel. You will change the way that things are seen in Heaven, and you will become a leader to so many. I could never be disgusted by you, brother, because you are the future of all of us.”

Castiel’s chest tightened painfully at her words. How could a simple Guardian carry so much weight? How was he supposed to hold the burden of the entirety of Heaven?

He nodded slightly instead of voicing his questions, though, and Anna’s thumbs slid affectionately under his cheekbones before she disappeared. Castiel took a steadying breath and tried to gather his thoughts, but then he felt a sharp pull on the thread connecting him to Dean.

“Dean?” He appeared at the man’s side in an instant, his wings ruffling in anxiety.

He found the man in his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed with a bewildered look on his face. “Cas?”

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel assessed the situation. Dean was alone, and there was no edge of panic or fear littering his mind.

“I’m fine, Cas.” The human looked down at his hands before glancing back up at Castiel. “Are you okay? You took off pretty quickly, and I was afraid I’d hurt you.” He shifted nervously.

The laugh that escaped Castiel’s lips was surprising to him.

“Don’t be preposterous, Dean. I’m fine.” The angel shook his head with a small smile on his face.

He was still worried about everything Anna had said, and he was still disgusted in his body’s reactions to Dean, but he would find a way to worry about all of that tomorrow.

“Then, why did you just disappear? It’s rude, y’know, to just pop in and out of places without a hello or a goodbye.”

Castiel made a mental note of this, narrowing his eyes slightly as he thought it over. “Hello, Dean.”

The angel was awarded with a deep chuckle and he watched as Dean shook his head. “Not exactly what I meant, but I guess it works. So, are you going to tell me what happened? Why you disappeared?”

It was Castiel’s turn to fidget uncomfortably. He remembered to blink.

“Um.” The angel tested the word on his tongue. He had noticed Dean using it quite often when he was trying to find the correct phrases to use. He shifted slightly, his wings disappearing. “I apologize if I concerned you, Dean. I was just overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?” Dean frowned up at him, his confusion obvious by the taut way he held his mouth.

“Physical touch to an angel’s wings can cause that angel to have an all-encompassing responsiveness to whoever is providing the physical stimulation.” The angel spoke hurriedly, and he felt his face start to burn again.

“Woah, like..?” Dean stared at him, his jaw slack as he considered Castiel’s words. “Like physical- um? Like…Sexual stimulation?”

Castiel could tell that Dean was flushing, too, and the angel stepped back away from the human until his back hit the wall. “Yes, Dean. Again, I apologize. It is something that I should have explained to you earlier, but the subject never came up. I did not know that you were intending on... touching, or I would have mentioned it. Once I realized how inappropriate the situation was, I decided it would be best if I had a little bit of space. After discussing the issue with a superior of mine, I heard you call.” Castiel stumbled over the words, finally meeting the tired green eyes that were watching him intently. “Why did you call me, by the way, if you are not in danger?"

"I didn’t exactly call you, Cas.” Dean blinked as he spoke, reminding Castiel that he should do the same. “I was just worrying about you.”

“Oh. I apologize.” The angel was surprised by the answer, unsure how to process the information.

“Don’t apologize, dude.” Dean grimaced. “I molested you and you’re apologizing for running away? It makes me feel worse.”

“Sorry.” Castiel frowned, and Dean gave him a look that was exhausted. “You should go to sleep, Dean.”

The human nodded, flopping backward on the bed to lie down. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” The angel had turned toward the door.

“There’s a guest bedroom across the hall. It’ll be more comfortable than the couch.” Dean’s words were mumbled, and Castiel nodded before he realized that the human couldn’t see him.

“Thank you, Dean.” He turned the doorknob and stepped out into the hallway.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?” The angel paused, turning back to look at the half-coherent man.

“M’sorry I molested you.”

“Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel spoke fondly, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in his own chest, a soft echo of the throbbing ache that plagued Dean’s heart. It was shocking to him, and he almost audibly gasped at the rhythmic pulsing of the burning sensation throughout his body.

“Night, Cas.” Dean rolled over, leaving Castiel in the hallway to stare at the human, his mind racing and his chest constricting to the point where he thought he might actually disappear.


	6. My Missing Puzzle Piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Another angel?” Dean shook Balthazar’s hand, a look of unease overtaking his features and causing Castiel to fidget uneasily.
> 
>  
> 
> “A Messenger. I’m off today, though, so I figured I’d pop down to make you coffee. I’m a little offended, however, that Cassy didn’t tell me how handsome you are.”
> 
>  
> 
> Castiel bristled, taking in Dean’s obvious embarrassment. “Balthazar.” He warned, causing the other angel to chuckle.
> 
>  
> 
> “I understand.” Balthazar stepped away from Dean, fussing over the coffee pot once more. “You’ve called dibs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO HERE.
> 
> I had a ton of trouble writing this because I've had midterms for the past 2 weeks. BUT IT'S HERE SO YAY.
> 
> Chapter title comes from "Teenage Dream" by Katy Perry.
> 
> Super special shoutout to my lovely beta, Lacey. I'd be lost without you.

Castiel didn’t sleep. He sat quietly on the bed in the guest room, trying to sort through the emotions churning in his chest. He was confused, scared, and feeling too many foreign sensations to achieve sleep. The sound of bed springs met his ears at approximately 6:30 am, and Castiel stood from where he was sitting, opening the bedroom door at the exact moment that Dean came stumbling into the hallway, donning only a pair of dark grey boxers.

 

“Mornin’.” The human muttered, shuffling down the hall toward the bathroom.

 

Castiel gave him a small smile in response, trying not to let his eyes stray far from the human’s face. When the bathroom door was shut behind the Dean, the angel flew into the kitchen, staring blankly at the coffee pot. He knew that Dean would most likely want coffee when he finished using the facilities, but Castiel wasn’t sure how to go about producing the beverage. The angel squinted at the small machine, trying to figure out the complexities of human mechanics. He was concentrating so hard that he almost jumped at the sound of another voice in the room.

 

“That red button on the bottom left should turn it on.”

 

Castiel turned to rest his heavy glare on his brother as soon as the button was pushed. “Thank you, Balthazar.”

 

“Now, you’ll need the coffee, a filter, and some water.” The blonde angel grinned, disappearing quickly before reappearing at Castiel’s side, items in hand. “This coffee is freshly ground. Columbian. He’ll like it.”

 

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Balthazar, trying to understand what the lilt in tone of his brother’s voice was implying. “If you know how to operate this machine, then I recommend you do so. I’ll probably just break it.”

 

Balthazar chuckled, gently shoving Castiel aside to open the coffee maker.

 

“Who the hell is this?”

 

Castiel and Balthazar both turned full circle to see Dean standing in the doorway of the kitchen, an extremely confused look on his face as he stared at the newcomer.

 

“Dean, this is-“

 

“Balthazar.” He cut Castiel off, stepping forward and offering Dean an outstretched hand.

 

“Another angel?” Dean shook Balthazar’s hand, a look of unease overtaking his features and causing Castiel to fidget uneasily.

 

“A Messenger. I’m off today, though, so I figured I’d pop down to make you coffee. I’m a little offended, however, that Cassy didn’t tell me how handsome you are.”

 

Castiel bristled, taking in Dean’s obvious embarrassment. “Balthazar.” He warned, causing the other angel to chuckle.

 

“I understand.” Balthazar stepped away from Dean, fussing over the coffee pot once more. “You’ve called dibs.”

 

Dean narrowed his eyes at Balthazar before turning his gaze to Castiel. There was something puzzling in those green eyes, but the angel couldn’t find it in himself to bother with thinking anymore because the only word he could focus on was green. The sound of coffee spilling into the pot caused Castiel to finally look away, jogging him back into reality and clearing his head.

 

“You’re preposterous, brother.” He turned to look at Balthazar, but the blonde angel’s eyes were narrowed in thought.

 

“I have to go.”

 

Castiel exchanged worried glances with Dean before stepping toward Balthazar. “What is it?”

 

“I’m being called. By Gabriel.” His eyes landed on Castiel’s, who furrowed his brow at the words.

 

“This is bad?” Dean sounded confused, and Castiel could understand to some degree. He didn’t have a proper understanding of angelic normalcies, so Dean wouldn’t know that archangels usually only contacted seraphs.

 

“It’s puzzling.” Castiel nodded toward the human, hearing the telltale flutter of Balthazar leaving the room.

 

“Well, that was exciting.” He frowned, moving toward the coffee pot and fishing a mug from the cabinet. He poured himself a cup and sipped the piping hot liquid, his eyebrows shooting up as he whirled around to look at Castiel.

 

“Is something wrong, Dean?” Castiel took a step closer to him, their eyes meeting for a fraction of a second.

 

“This coffee is awesome.”

 

Castiel smiled, glad that Dean was happy, but there was an unfamiliar sensation rolling in his stomach. He felt taken aback by it, and somewhat indignant at the fact that Balthazar seemed to know more about what Dean liked and disliked than he did.

 

"So, I figured we could run to the mall and pick you up a few things."

 

“Dean, I assure you, that is not necessary.” Castiel disappeared from sight and reappeared next to the human, sitting on the counter.

 

Dean jumped at the exchange but kept his voice even, turning to look at the angel incredulously. “You just want to wear the flasher coat to work at the bar? Be my guest, but don’t come crying to me when people make fun of you.”

 

Castiel frowned at the words, looking down at his trench coat. “I believe you misunderstood. I can fabricate clothing with merely a thought, Dean. There’s no need for you to spend your money on me.”

 

A new feeling sliced through Castiel, coming from Dean’s direction, and the angel almost buckled under the weight of it. It was fierce, possessive, and it felt like he was going to burn from the inside out. Castiel took a deep breath, trying to figure out what was happening to him, why he was feeling such things.

 

After a moment, Dean spoke once more.

 

“I don’t mind, man. I thought you wanted the complete humanity experience?”

 

Castiel’s heart lurched in his chest at the hope in Dean’s eyes, and the angel couldn’t even tell if Dean was projecting the feeling, or if he was experiencing it himself.

 

“You’re right.” He spoke smoothly, looking down at the human from where he was perched on the countertop.

 

“Maybe we’ll stop at a diner and get an early lunch. Just gimme like half an hour to shower and get ready, ‘kay?” Dean smiled brilliantly, and Castiel had no choice but to nod.

 

×××××××

 

“What about this?” Castiel held up a collared shirt adorned with dark buttons down the front. The fabric was a checkerboard pattern of blues and blacks and greys. He looked at Dean for approval, but the human grimaced.

 

“Plaid? Who are you? Sam?”

 

Castiel frowned down at the shirt, holding it up against his chest the way Dean had done with almost every shirt in the cart. “I like it.”

 

Dean’s sharp intake of breath drew Cas’s eyes away from the checked material and he glanced around warily. “Dean?”

 

“You um-” Dean snatched the shirt from the angel’s hand, tossing it into the buggy, and Castiel could see the blood rising into Dean’s cheeks. “Only because it matches your eyes. Remind me to stop by the women’s section and grab a matching purse for you.” He grumbled.

 

“Dean, I am male, and an angel. I have no use for a purse, matching or otherwise.” Castiel was confused, but he looked down into the cart and felt a cloud of satisfaction filling him at the sight of the plaid shirt resting among the things that were to be purchased.

 

“Pants next.” Dean ushered him across the store to another section and Castiel gaped at the amount of denim lining the walls.

 

Dean frowned, shuffling through a rack near the front of the department, glancing quickly at the angel. “Any chance you know what size you are?”

 

“I’m afraid not.” Castiel shuffled awkwardly, looking at Dean. “These clothes were angelically tailored to fit me perfectly.”

 

The human narrowed his eyes in thought, pulling a pair of dark jeans from the rack before turning to face Castiel. He moved closer, a slightly nervous air following him as he stood mere inches in front of the angel. Dean took a breath and held the jeans parallel to Castiel’s waist, inching them forward slowly until the backs of his fingers were pressed against the angel’s hip bones.

 

If Castiel hadn’t been so on edge about the fact that Dean was touching him, he would have taken a moment to appreciate the fact that the human had moved slowly, giving him ample time to pull away if he didn’t find the situation appropriate. Of course, the steady pressure of the human’s touch against his waist was too much for Castiel to focus on anything else.

 

“These are a little short.” Dean mused, pulling his hands away and leaving Castiel feeling cold.

 

He didn’t have to wait long, however, because there was another pair of jeans being pressed against him in mere seconds.

 

“Much better.” Dean grinned, and he was close enough that Castiel could see the flushed skin under the human’s collar, could feel the heat rolling off of him, and the angel nodded minutely.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Dean and Castiel both jumped at the sound of a voice so close to them, and the angel was angry at himself for letting someone approach without his notice. He blinked at the older woman in front of them.

 

“Yes ma’am?” Dean spoke first, drawing Castiel’s eyes back to him.

 

“I just wanted to let you know that you two are adorable.” She smiled, and Castiel could feel Dean’s confusion. “My Marty used to look at me the way you look at each other.”

 

Castiel was shocked at the feeling that overtook him. He was pleased at the thought of people assuming that Dean was his, he was delighted by it, and it terrified him. What’s worse is that Castiel was certain that the emotions inside him were completely his own, but he could feel Dean’s feelings mirroring his.

 

“Oh. We’re not… We’re-”

 

“You should be.” The woman cut Dean off and patted his arm. “I lost my husband three years ago. I wish I had let him in sooner.”

 

The angel felt Dean’s eyes on him, but Castiel couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. “Thank you, ma’am.”

 

Once the woman was gone, Dean dragged the angel to the dressing room, tossing denim into the buggy along the way. He was mumbling to himself, and Castiel was aware that there were no actual words being spoken, but he chuckled nonetheless.

 

When they reached the changing rooms, Dean pulled out a few garments and tossed them in the angel’s direction. Castiel made sure to catch each item and keep them somewhat organized. When Dean turned around to look at him, the human grinned. “Don’t just stand there, Cas. Let’s get this montage over with.”

 

Castiel was puzzled by his wording, but the angel walked into the first empty stall he could find and began disrobing. As he mechanically slipped his clothes off, he thought of the feelings still buzzing inside him, his own reaction to the old woman’s assumption that he and Dean were more than they actually were.

 

In all of his years observing humanity, Castiel had always been fascinated by their innate curiosity and enthusiasm toward puzzles. Jigsaw puzzles had been around for ages, and humans had yet to tire of them—it was a true testament to humanity’s need for the mental challenge of putting something together, fixing something because everything else seemed so permanently damaged. Also, the idea that every piece had its proper place is a soothing notion. There was never a single piece left alone once the puzzle is completed; every small cardboard bit is nestled cozily amidst several other pieces, never by itself.

 

Castiel felt like a puzzle as he pulled on the plaid shirt he had grown fond of. His emotions were a spinning jumble of pieces that didn’t seem to fit together, but the angel was comforted by the fact that he knew that every piece would eventually fall where it was meant to be. His hands worked quickly, fastening buttons as he shucked his pants off and slipped into a pair of jeans. He found the tight and stiff fabric of the pants uncomfortable, preferring Dean’s tattered and worn denim to the new pair he had on, but he supposed that, with time, he could grow accustomed to the feeling.

 

“This gonna happen today?” Dean’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Castiel sighed as he did up his fly and cast himself a glance in the mirror before stepping out of the dressing room.

 

“I think you may be right about this shirt.” The angel grumbled, glancing down. “The pattern is distracting and-”

 

He stopped talking when he glanced at Dean, taking in the human’s slack jaw and increased heart rate. Castiel felt the heat rising in Dean’s stomach, and he tried to ignore it to bask in the thick fog of satisfaction he was feeling himself. Dean was speechless (and blushing?), and Castiel was the reason behind it. The angel almost preened under the man’s stare, but he managed to control himself.

 

“Say something, Dean.”

 

The human’s mouth worked silently for a few moments before he found words. “I was wrong about the shirt.”

 

“You think so?” Castiel was grinning now, unable to stop himself.

 

“I um. Yeah. It’s nice.” Dean nodded before shaking his head minutely as if to clear it. “The pants? They fit okay?”

 

“They’re a little tighter than I’d like. Restricting.” Castiel was honest, and he almost made a disgruntled noise when Dean’s blood started to evacuate his face. “I prefer your pants. The material is more pliant.”

 

Dean made a choking sound before shaking his head harder this time. “Go put your clothes back on. If these fit, the others’ll be fine.”

 

Castiel nodded and moved hastily back into the stall, listening to Dean ramble on about socks and briefs and sleep clothes on the other side of the door. He redressed with a mere thought, not having to touch any of the clothing, opening the door only seconds later with a small nod.

 

They went to a diner for lunch, and Castiel informed Dean that, as good as the hamburgers at the diner were, they could not compare to the human’s secret recipe. He relished the pink tint in Dean’s cheeks when he waved off the compliment, calling the waitress over.

 

“What can I get you?” She smiled brilliantly at Dean, and Castiel frowned at the way he responded in kind.

 

“We’ll have two pieces of apple pie, gorgeous.” He winked as he spoke, and the waitress looked flustered. Castiel felt nauseated.

 

“With ice cream?” She jotted down something on the little notepad she was holding.

 

“A can of whipped cream, if you have an extra?”

 

“I’ll see what I can do.” She ripped the small piece of paper from the pad and stuck her pen into the blonde ponytail on top of her head, dropping the paper onto the table in front of Dean. Castiel could see a phone number written on the page in loopy handwriting.

 

“The female wishes to copulate with you.” He said slowly, tilting his head to the side as he tried to understand the blank expression on Dean’s face.

 

“Too bad I’m not interested. She’s not bad to look at.” The human shrugged, moving the piece of paper off to the side, uninterested.

 

Castiel was confused at the gratification he got from the small gesture, and he gave Dean a small smile before the waitress came back over, two pieces of pie in her hands.

 

“Here you go.” She set Dean’s pie right in front of him carefully, not even looking at Castiel as she carelessly dropped his plate onto the table. The angel frowned, staring at his pie before looking up to see her pull a can of whipped cream from her apron pocket.

 

“Thanks, doll.” Dean smiled slightly, but didn’t take his eyes off of Castiel. The girl looked annoyed, but she wasn’t deterred.

 

“I get off at 4, if you want to come back?”

 

Castiel’s eyes met Dean’s gaze then, and the human grinned, finally looking at the waitress as his hand came to rest on the angel’s. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m taken.”

 

The girl frowned, turning to look at Castiel, who was just as bewildered.

 

“I’m-I’m sorry.” She shook her head, her embarrassment filling her face with blood before she walked away.

 

“Dean?” Castiel didn’t pull his hand out from under Dean’s palm.

 

He was so warm, his skin indescribably soft against the back of his hand, and the angel wanted to keep it there for as long as he could.

 

“Sorry, dude.” Dean retracted his hand with a chuckle and a slight blush. “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.” He pointed his fork at the pastry on the angel’s plate. “Eat your pie. I want to see your face the first time you try it.”

 

Castiel picked up his fork and poked at the pie, stopping when Dean pushed the fork away with his own.

 

“Sorry. I forgot.” Dean took the lid from the whipped cream bottle and shook it furiously. He then proceeded to create a mountain of white fluff on top of Castiel’s pie. “Okay. Go.”

 

The angel stared at the pie, using his fork to cut himself a piece with plenty of whipped cream on it before popping it into his mouth.

 

Now, Castiel had seen almost every version of Heaven there was. He had seen gardens full of flowers that were too beautiful for mere men to lay their eyes upon. He had seen beaches as the sun was setting, casting pinks and oranges into the sky that were the perfect contrast to the deep blue of the sea. He had seen humans laughing, holding their families at Christmastime. And as he pondered all of this, Castiel came to believe that pie was the culinary version of Heaven.

 

The sound of his fork scraping against his plate brought him back to the diner, and he frowned down at his empty dish.

 

“You liked it, huh?” Dean was grinning and chewing his own piece, scooting his plate toward Castiel before standing. “Have the rest of mine, and I’ll go take care of the bill.”

 

“Thank you, Dean.” The angel looked up at him, not entirely sure what he was so appreciative of. “For the pie. For today. For everything.”

 

“Not a problem, Cas.” The human reached out to put a hand on the angel’s shoulder, and Castiel felt a small piece of that puzzle inside him slip into place.

 

 


	7. There's a Drumming Noise Inside my Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, what is it? ‘Tween the two of you, I mean?” Bobby jerked his head in the direction of the living room, where Castiel could still hear pieces of the brothers’ conversation.
> 
>  
> 
> “Dean is allowing me to stay with him while I am getting on my feet, sir.” He tossed in the title as an afterthought, suspecting that Bobby would appreciate it. “I am going to start working at the Roadhouse to earn my keep.”
> 
>  
> 
> The older man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You know that’s not what I mean, boy.”
> 
>  
> 
> Castiel frowned, wondering what he could have possibly meant, an image of Dean pressing him against the wall of the bar flashing like a caution light in his brain. “If you’re implying that Dean and I are romantically involved, then you’re mista-”
> 
>  
> 
> “I’m not implyin’ anything, boy. You’re awful defensive for someone who’s not involved, though.” Bobby spoke slowly, and there was an amused lilt in his voice as he started spooning spaghetti noodles onto the top plate of Castiel’s stack. “Dean’s a good person, Cas.”
> 
>  
> 
> The angel watched as Bobby poured red sauce over the pasta, thinking his words over. “I know that, Mr. Singer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge super-thanks to Lacey, who's kept me sane and listened to my endless ranting about this fic. I couldn't do this without her.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, thanks to anyone who's left kudos or even just taken time to read this. You guys are awesome.
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter title is taken from "Drumming Song" by Florence + the Machine.

“Feel like going out for dinner?” Dean closed the apartment door behind them, dropping bags of clothing haphazardly in the living room floor.

 

“Dean, we just ate lunch.” Castiel was perplexed and satisfyingly full. “How can you be hungry?”

 

“Not right now, Feathers.” The human chuckled at Castiel’s shocked reaction to the nickname. “I just got a text from Sam. It seems he hasn’t been able to keep his mouth shut, and Bobby wants to meet my new roomie.”

 

Castiel thought about the situation. He knew that Bobby Singer was the closest thing to a father that the brothers had once John disappeared after Mary’s death. There was a small part of the angel that was nervous about the impression he would put upon someone who was so important to Dean, but he also knew that if he refused, Dean would get the wrong idea and his feelings would be hurt.

 

“Earth to angel.” Dean was waving his hand in front of Castiel’s face. “We were invited for dinner tonight. Yea or nay?”

 

“Of course, Dean.” The angel nodded. “I look forward to it.”

 

“Awesome.” The pulse of contentment that swept from Dean to Castiel was unmistakable. “I’m gonna go nap. I have to work tonight, and it’s your first night on the job, so don’t do anything too strenuous.” Dean stood in the living room for a moment, maintaining eye contact for longer than was necessary, but Castiel wasn’t bothered by it.

 

“You can put your clothes in the dresser and the closet in the guest room.” The human finally spoke before breaking his gaze and exiting the room.

 

Castiel squatted down, rifling through the bags. He decided that he would wear the black flannel lounge pants around the house, with one of his new t-shirts. He picked up the bags and moved them into the guestroom across the hall from Dean’s bedroom, using a bit of his angelic power to change into his clothes as he walked down the hall. He frowned as he set the bags on the bed, not entirely comfortable in the stiff material of the new shirt.

 

Castiel thought that maybe he should be wary of the fact that it only took him 4 seconds of contemplation before deciding that he would steal one of Dean’s shirts to wear instead. He knocked lightly on the door across the hall, but he was answered by the sound of soft snoring on the other side of the wood. He moved through the door and appeared next to Dean’s dresser. He opened the second drawer, having gotten familiar with where Dean keeps his laundry from putting it up so often, and chose an old shirt with a band logo on the front of it. As he was slipping it over his shoulders, he heard the bedsprings squeaking and Dean grumbled.

 

“Cas.”

 

The angel turned, expecting to explain to the human that he wasn’t comfortable, that he needed a shirt that he could relax in, but he was surprised to find Dean still asleep.

 

“Cas," he repeated, and the angel watched as Dean nuzzled his face into his pillow, ignoring the sizzling underneath his skin at the sight before him.

 

His senses heightened and he could feel his wings ruffling in agitation at the feeling of another presence in the house. Castiel hid himself from sight, reappearing in the living room next to the intruder.

 

“Balthazar.” Castiel dropped his cloak, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he remembered the situation Balthazar had been put in just earlier that morning. “I presume all is well with the archangel?”

 

“It’s fine.” The blonde flopped onto the couch with a deep sigh. “Apparently, since your boy-toy is such a novelty, other angels are forbidden from making themselves known to him.”

 

“You got in trouble?” The thought was odd. “I apologize for causing you inconvenience. You were only trying to help me.”

 

“It’s all good, Cassy.” Balthazar shrugged. “No harm done.”

 

“You were right, by the way.” Castiel sat down next to him, appreciating how comfortable his new pants were. “Dean rather immensely enjoyed your coffee.”

 

Just then, a loud groan that sounded like the angel’s name came from the human’s room.

 

“Sounds like he’s enjoying more than the coffee, Cassy.” Balthazar was grinning. “You sly dog.”

 

“He’s sleeping, Balthazar.” Castiel felt the blood rushing into his face.

 

“Why don’t you see what the fuss is about, then?” Balthazar stood, an almost predatory smirk on his lips.

 

“What do you mean?” Castiel was on his feet as well, following Balthazar down the hall.

 

“Dream-walking, you numskull,” the blonde angel murmured before turning to look at his brother. “Didn’t Zachariah or Anna tell you about it?”

 

“No.” Castiel frowned.

 

“Oh, wow. Someone up there seriously doesn’t like you.” He chuckled, pulling Cas to a stop outside Dean’s door. “It’s simple, really. Just move into the dream the same way you would move into another realm of Heaven.”

 

Castiel fidgeted. “I don’t know if Dean would appreciate me invading his privacy in that way.”

 

The other angel shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Your loss, then. I better go. I’m technically on the clock. Gotta work a little divine intervention in Russia.”

 

“Good luck, brother.” Castiel nodded.

 

“You’re the one that needs luck, young one.” Balthazar chuckled and disappeared, leaving the blue-eyed angel staring at the wood of Dean’s door.

 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice met his ears again, and it was pained. He was calling for help.

 

That was the deciding factor for Castiel. He closed his eyes and shifted into the realm of Dean’s dream. The smell was the first thing that alerted the angel to where he was. Thick smoke hung along the inside of the room, clinging to the inside of Castiel’s throat and burning his lungs. He glanced around, looking for Dean, wondering why he was dreaming such horrible things.

 

“Cas, please.”

 

He followed the human’s voice into another bedroom, and the sight that met him made the angel’s heart clench in his chest. Dean was curled up in a ball on the ground, inhaling air that had lost most of its oxygen. Castiel could feel the human’s life force leaving him, his lungs collapsing underneath the weight of suffocation. He moved quickly to Dean’s side and used his grace to shift the reality around them, landing somewhere familiar. The Roadhouse.

 

The human inhaled deeply, sitting up on the floor. It took Dean approximately 3 minutes to regain his composure and get to his feet. The angel watched him warily, reaching to put a hand on Dean’s shoulder to offer a steady presence next to him.

 

“I knew you’d come,” he finally choked out. “I knew you would, Cas.”

 

Castiel wasn’t aware of what was happening. One minute, they were standing in the middle of the Roadhouse, and the next he was being pressed against the wall. Another thing that he noticed was that Dean’s hands were everywhere at once. His shirt was being torn open, and Castiel minutely mourned the loss of the soft fabric against his chest before Dean’s fingers moved down his stomach.

 

“D-Dean?” The angel gasped, trying to move away, but the wall was hard against his back. “Dean, what are you-”

 

“This dream is more realistic than the others.” Dean spoke, but Castiel didn’t hear it because the human’s tongue was crawling up his neck, rough hands ripping open the flannel on the angel’s pants and he heard a happy sigh as the material hit the floor.

 

Then, there were hips against his, grinding slowly against an erection he didn’t remember getting. Castiel yelped when Dean’s teeth closed around his pulse point, causing him to shiver underneath the man’s hands.

 

“Dean?” His name was a stammer on Castiel’s lips, and the angel knew that he should push Dean away, demand an explanation, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

 

He wanted this. He wanted Dean. Castiel groaned loud enough to shake the foundation of the building around them, and Dean’s eyes flew open wide, their gazes connecting just as the angel was forced out of the dream.

 

“Shit!”

 

Castiel could hear Dean cursing from his own room, and he tried to force himself to stop trembling. He glanced down at himself, attempting to convince his erection to disappear and mending his tattered clothes with a wave of his hand. The angel looked at the clock, surprised to see that three hours had passed.

 

“Cas?” Dean knocked on his bedroom door and the angel panicked.

 

He was still incredibly aroused, and he couldn’t allow Dean to see him in such an inappropriate state. The angel sat down on the bed cross-legged pulling a pillow into his lap as the knocking persisted.

 

“Yes, Dean?” he called, stiffening when the door swung open.

 

“Cas, we need to-” Dean paused, looking bewildered. “Is that my shirt?”

 

“I don’t like the itchy material of the new clothes. I believe that, after washing them, they will be more comfortable.” Castiel spoke slowly.

 

The human nodded. “Well… put some pants on. We need to leave.”

 

xxxxxxx

 

The drive to Bobby Singer’s was silent. Dean didn’t speak about his dream, and neither did Castiel. In all honesty, the angel knew that he should forget that it ever happened, but he couldn’t get the feeling of Dean’s hands on his body off of his mind. When they reached the salvage yard, Castiel took a breath.

 

What if Bobby didn’t like him? What if Dean slipped up and told the older man that he was an angel?

 

“Relax.” Dean finally broke the silence, glancing over at the angel. “There’s no need to be nervous.”

 

He was appreciative of the assurance, but Castiel stayed silent as Dean parked the car.

 

“Come on.” The human opened his door and climbed out, waiting patiently in front of the car for the angel to join him. As soon as Castiel did, Dean grinned. “Sam’s here, so that’s probably going to be a shitload of awkward, but Bobby’s cool.”

 

The door opened before they made it to the top step of the porch, and Bobby Singer stepped outside. “I was beginning to wonder if you two were going to make it or not."

 

Dean frowned, glancing at his watch. "We're twenty minutes early, Bobby."

 

The old man shrugged, his eyes moving to Castiel. "This must be your new roommate?"

 

"Yeah, uh." Dean took a moment to breathe before smiling nervously. "This is Cas. Cas, this is Bobby."

 

Castiel extended his hand toward the man, a small gesture of greeting that he had picked up on from watching Dean interact with others around him. It seemed to be the correct action to make at that moment, because Bobby gripped his hand and shook it firmly, covering their joined hands with his unused one.

 

"Nice t'meet you, boy. I've heard a lot about you."

 

Castiel frowned and dropped his hand. How could Bobby have heard a lot about him? Dean's contact with the man had been minimal since Castiel had appeared to him. As these thoughts were spinning in his head, a taller figure appeared behind Bobby, and the angel immediately recognized the man and understood.

 

"Hello again, Sam." Castiel gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement, a gesture that Sam returned before laying his eyes on his brother.

 

Dean scooted minutely closer to Castiel, so slowly and fractionally that it was something that only a celestial being might pick up. The angel hid his smile when Dean's hand brushed against his marginally, seeking comfort or even protection from the apologetic gaze of his brother.

 

"Don't just stand there, y'idgits. Come inside."

 

Bobby's gruff voice pulled the two brothers from their trance, and Castiel was surprised at the pressure of Dean's hand falling on his lower back, pushing him forward. Sam had already turned to walk farther into the house, but Castiel could feel Bobby's eyes zeroing in on the point of contact between the two of them. He wanted to shy away, to pull out of Dean's reach and walk independently, but the steady weight of the human's hand was grounding in some way, soothing.

 

Castiel stepped into the house, glancing around and appreciating the vintage decorations that Bobby had placed all over the rooms. Of course, this wasn't the first time that the angel had been in this house. In fact, the first time Castiel had ever seen Dean was in this house.

 

"What's going on between you two?" Bobby grimaced at Dean, rolling his eyes and motioning toward Sam.

 

"He keeps bringing up things he shouldn't."

 

Dean removed his hand from Castiel's lower back, and the angel missed the pressure instantly.

 

"What's dead should stay dead." Dean's jaw was tight, and Castiel was fascinated by the muscle that started to jump underneath the skin.

 

"Whatever he said, I'm sure he's sorry." Bobby grumbled. "You should make nice with him."

 

Dean rolled his eyes, a heavy sigh escaping his lips, and the human was standing so close to Castiel that the angel could feel the expelled air billowing against the back of his neck.

 

"Cas can come help me fix plates while you and your brother have a chat."

 

The angel could feel Dean’s anxiety, but he followed Bobby into the kitchen anyway. He was focusing on the mumbled chatter going on in the living room when Bobby spoke up.

 

“Don’t just stand there. Get over here and help.”

 

Castiel nodded quickly, moving closer to the counter and carefully holding the stack of plates the older man gave him.

 

“So, what is it? ‘Tween the two of you, I mean?” Bobby jerked his head in the direction of the living room, where Castiel could still hear pieces of the brothers’ conversation.

 

“Dean is allowing me to stay with him while I am getting on my feet, sir.” He tossed in the title as an afterthought, suspecting that Bobby would appreciate it. “I am going to start working at the Roadhouse to earn my keep.”

 

The older man’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You know that’s not what I mean, boy.”

 

Castiel frowned, wondering what he could have possibly meant, an image of Dean pressing him against the wall of the bar flashing like a caution light in his brain. “If you’re implying that Dean and I are romantically involved, then you’re mista-”

 

“I’m not implyin’ anything, boy. You’re awful defensive for someone who’s not involved, though.” Bobby spoke slowly, and there was an amused lilt in his voice as he started spooning spaghetti noodles onto the top plate of Castiel’s stack. “Dean’s a good person, Cas.”

 

The angel watched as Bobby poured red sauce over the pasta, thinking his words over. “I know that, Mr. Singer.”

 

“Mr. Singer was my daddy, son," he chastised, moving the full plate onto the counter and working on the next one. “I’m just… Kid’s been through a lot. I’d hate to see him get hurt again.”

 

Castiel chuckled. It was almost hysterical, the thought of him hurting the person he is assigned to protect. “That won’t be a problem, I assure you.”

 

“For your information, I’m not blind.” Bobby moved the now full plate to the side and started piling the next one in line. “I can see the way he looks at you. I can see the way you orbit around him like he’s the damn sun. I was born at night, but it wasn’t last night.”

 

Castiel felt his face heating up, and he wondered what he looked like with a pink tint to his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say. I-”

 

“Are we going to eat tonight, or should I have brought an extra change of clothes to change into for breakfast?” Dean popped his head into the kitchen, and Castiel exhaled a breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding.

 

“Just wait a God damned minute," Bobby grumbled.

 

“Don’t blaspheme.” Castiel spoke without thinking, flinching at the man’s choice of words.

 

The angel saw the way Dean hid his smile, and turning to look at Bobby, Castiel saw the shock on the older man’s face.

 

“Religious, are we?”

 

“You don’t know the half of it, Bobby.” Dean grinned, moving into the kitchen to retrieve the full plates on the counter.

 

Castiel wasn’t aware that his gaze had followed Dean until Bobby pointed it out.

 

“I’m waiting for your eyes to pop out and follow him into the other room.” There was a gruff laugh after the words. “Get outta my kitchen and see if those two knuckleheads have patched things up.”

 

When Castiel rounded the corner, he caught sight of Dean setting a plate in front of Sam. When the younger brother caught sight of the angel, he gave him a brilliant smile.

 

"You made it through questioning? That's a good sign."

 

"Shut up, Sam." Dean spoke harsh words, but the tone of his voice was jubilant as he motioned for Cas to sit next to him.

 

Dinner went smoothly after that. The spaghetti was rapturous, and Bobby watched with wide eyes as Castiel ate three helpings, tossing compliments out of the side of his mouth between bites. The brothers had settled into an easy conversation, the topics ranging from the state of the bar to Jo coming home for Thanksgiving. When the chatter died down and the four plates were shoved haphazardly towards the middle of the table, Bobby stood.

 

“Sherriff Mills brought by a pie this afternoon. Apple. I don’t reckon any of you want a piece?”

 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Dean sat back in his chair, sparing a glance to Castiel, who was seated beside him.

 

When Bobby returned, the angel sniffed the air, grinning as the man put the pie down in the middle of the table, a small stack of paper plates beside it. Dean hopped up quickly and hurried into the kitchen, coming back with a round container and a spoon. Castiel was so preoccupied watching Dean that he didn’t notice the piece of pie that Bobby set in front of him.

 

“Here you go.” Dean sat back down and opened the container, revealing white fluff underneath. He scooped the cream out of the tub and started to pile it onto Castiel’s piece of pie, the angel grinning the entire time.

 

He ate the pie slowly, savoring each bite before swallowing. He tried not to think too much about the contrasting tastes of the crust and the sweet filling contouring with the fluffy texture of the whipped cream, wanting to actually enjoy this piece of pie, unlike the piece he had earlier. It was gone too soon, of course, and Castiel frowned at his empty plate, running the broad edge of the fork over the last remaining bit of filling before licking it clean.

 

There was a half of a second of disappointment before Dean slid his own half-eaten piece onto the angel’s plate. Castiel looked at him, trying to convey his gratitude, his pleasure at this turn of events, without speaking. Blue eyes met green and their gazes held, the angel soaking up each individual emotion that the human was giving off and sending it back threefold. He knew that Dean couldn’t feel the emotions that he was conveying, but it only seemed fair to feel them anyway (not that Castiel could help it-- human emotions are quite involuntary).

 

A choked noise across the table caused their eye contact to break, and the angel frowned, looking over at Sam, who was eyeing Dean’s half-eaten pie. Castiel opened his mouth to speak, to offer the piece to Sam, since he obviously wanted it, but there was a sharp and insistent tug on his consciousness.

 

He was being called to Heaven.

 

It was an agonizing feeling, to be wretched from a setting so human and innocent by the reminder that he was working. The pull on his mind got harder, and Castiel felt as if his temples would explode. Whoever was calling him was unrelenting. The noise that fell from Castiel’s lips must have been pitiful, because everyone was staring at him now.

 

“Cas?” Dean touched his arm, and the angel fought his urge to press closer, to seek more of that physical touch. “Cas, what’s wrong?”

 

“Dean, may I speak to you in the other room?” He tried to keep his voice even, but his pulse was pounding in his ears with the need to fly away.

 

“Sure, Cas.” Dean stood, pulling the angel to his feet. Castiel figured that the human understood that something was seriously wrong. He spared a glance across the table to Bobby and Sam, who both looked mildly concerned before he was being pulled into the kitchen.

 

“I’m being called to Heaven.” Castiel pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “It hurts.”

 

“Okay. It’s okay.” There was a steady pressure of Dean’s hand on his shoulder, and it eased him slightly. “We’ll go. I’ll tell them you got a migraine or something.”

 

“Dean.” Castiel winced around his name. The insistent pounding in his head got louder. “I need to go. Now.”

 

“It’s okay, Cas.” The human nodded, opening the back door at the other end of the kitchen and slamming it shut loudly. “Go. I’ll handle things here.”

 

The angel flew, slightly puzzled by Dean’s action with the door. He landed in Heaven merely moments later with a smile on his face. The pressure behind his eyelids had eased and he realized that Dean had slammed the door to make it sound as if Castiel had left.

 

“Castiel.” Anna’s voice met his ears and he turned, noticing that he was in his preferred version of Heaven. And that Anna wasn’t alone.

 

“We’ve been waiting for you.” The other angel spoke gently, but Castiel could barely hear him over the amount of shock clouding his mind.

 

His eyes fell to the ground.

 

“Michael.”


	8. Mission Bells Were Ringing Somewhere Higher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?”
> 
> The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. He caught sight of Dean’s eyes when the human looked up, curiosity blooming across his face.
> 
> “Okay.”
> 
> Castiel found himself gnawing on his bottom lip. “I'm not a hammer, as you say. I have questions. I have doubts.” He spoke lowly, wondering why he would trust Dean with this information. And yet, it wasn’t the worst thing he could say. An expression of his feelings would be worse. And yet, he was shocked by the words that came out next. “I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore.”
> 
> There was a long pause in conversation, and Castiel wondered if Dean was going to ever speak to him again. It was an excruciating truth to reveal, and he was still surprised that the words had fallen from his mouth so freely.
> 
> “What happened, Cas?”
> 
> There was a hand on his shoulder then, the heat moving through the thin fabric of his shirt and filling him with something foreign and terrifying.
> 
> “I spoke with Michael.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frack.
> 
> Sorry.  
> Usually, I post chapters earlier in the day, but this week has been crazy.
> 
> This is also a page shorter than what I normally write, and I would blame it on school (because we have the HellTest this week) but none of you want to hear about that. So, here's the chapter.  
> There's a lot of plot-forming happening here, and I can go ahead an forewarn you that a time skip is coming up in the next chapter (also plenty of adorable scenes of Dean teaching Cas how to appear to be a human. -Throws confetti because it's a parade.-).
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Mission Bells" by Matt Nathanson.  
> Note: I'll probably take a lot of chapter titles from this song because it's perfect.
> 
> Lots of love to my beta, the fabulous Lacey.  
> You keep me afloat.
> 
> And thank you to my readers. I love you guys.
> 
> I'll stop rambling now.

“Castiel.” Michael’s voice held the impression of authority and knowledge that only an archangel could convey. It shook Castiel to his very bones, and he was overcome with the need to fall to his knees in the presence of so much power. The Guardian stood tall, though, his eyes remaining on the bright green grass beneath his feet as he tried not to think of how Dean’s eyes were almost the exact same shade of emerald.

 

“You’re probably wondering why we’ve called you here.” Anna spoke up then, and Castiel relaxed marginally. Anna was familiar; she was something that Castiel could use in this situation to ground himself, to see past the cloud of surprise and fierce recognition at the idea of being within merely a few feet of the most powerful angel in all of Heaven.

 

“Am I that transparent, sister?” He flinched at his attempt at humor. Maybe the wrong parts of Dean were rubbing off on him. The angel winced again at the thought of Dean’s wrong parts rubbing against him, because right now was certainly not the time to be imagining inappropriate things.

 

“You’re more blatant than you might think.” Michael spoke, and the air around the three of them humming with energy was enough to take Castiel’s train of thought to a more appropriate place. He shouldn’t have spoken aloud without permission—Castiel knew better. “We wish to consult with you about your assignment, Castiel.”

 

“May I be so bold as to speak freely throughout the duration of this meeting?” His voice shook slightly, and Castiel knew that this was probably the end of his appointment as Dean’s Guardian. Michael and Anna were probably already aware of his feelings toward the human—and he had come to terms with the fact that, yes, there were feelings there—and that was enough information to not only remove Dean from his custody, but to land Castiel the fiercest form of punishment that Heaven had to offer.

 

Purgatory.

 

The mere thought of it caused the younger angel to repress a full-body shudder.

 

“Of course, brother.” Michael spoke up, relieving Castiel of his need to keep silent. If they were going to take Dean away from him, there was no way that Castiel was giving up without a fight. Landing in Purgatory was inevitable at this point, anyway, right?

 

“Come sit, Castiel.” Anna’s voice was gentle, as if she could feel the anxiety rolling off of him in waves. In fact, she probably could. “We just have a few questions.”

 

He made his way across the small patch of grass between himself and the bench. His bench. Castiel made a mental note that, after this meeting, he should find somewhere else to spend his free time. This place was forever going to be associated as the place where Dean was taken from him. And, was that train of thought even correct? In order for them to take Dean, the human had to actually belong to Castiel, right? As far as the angel knew, other than a few inappropriate dreams, Dean didn’t think of him as anything other than a protector. The thought stung, but it was the truth, as far as Castiel was concerned.

 

He sat between the two older angels, trying not to notice how odd it felt to be pressed against them, shoulder-to-shoulder, on the small bench.

 

“As I’m sure you’ve been told, Dean Winchester was quite difficult to place.” Michael stated matter-of-factly, and of course Castiel was aware of the situation.

 

“You are correct in assuming that I’ve been informed of Dean’s novelty.” Castiel nodded.

 

“Because of the certain circumstances surrounding the Winchester brothers, it is necessary that the assignment is regularly kept under observation. That means that we will be checking in on you systematically.” The archangel said the words softly.

 

“If both brothers are of such importance, then why is Dean the only one with a Guardian?” Castiel asked the first question that came to him. He had plenty of inquiries, but that one was bothering him the most.

 

“Dean is the brother that is at the most risk.” Anna answered, putting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder.

 

“Sam Winchester was fornicating with a demon before I arrived. Are you sure that he is safe?” He spoke up, sparing a glance at Anna.

 

“Is he still involved with this demon?” Michael’s voice had a lilt of amusement to it, and Castiel was puzzled at the sound of it.

 

“Of course, not. I made it perfectly clear to her that she was to leave him alone.” He stated softly, and the sound of Michael’s chuckling made Castiel furrow his brow.

 

“It sounds as if you’re doing an exemplary job at keeping an eye on the both of them yourself, young one.”

 

Castiel couldn’t stop the bloom of pride in his chest. He hadn’t thought about the possibility that he could be responsible for both of the brothers, protecting the last of the Winchester bloodline. It was obviously an important task, and he was honored to have received it.

 

“Now, there is one more question we have before you may return to earth.” Anna’s words sounded as if they were falling out around a smile, and that caused Castiel an enormous amount of relief.

 

The assignment wasn’t being taken from him. He was still going to be Dean’s Guardian, still going to see him every day and work at the Roadhouse and protect him. He was eased by the notion that he would be responsible for the brothers, that he would be able to make sure that they were protected adequately. Honestly, Castiel wasn’t sure if he’d be comfortable with even his closest brothers or sisters taking over his job. No one would be able to look after Dean the way that Castiel could.

 

“What is the nature of your relationship with Dean Winchester?”

 

Michael’s words made Castiel’s next breath feel as if he was inhaling acid. He had no other option than to tell the truth. Michael was an archangel, for goodness sake, and Castiel wouldn’t—Couldn’t? Shouldn’t?—lie to him. And yet, if he told Michael that there were feelings, emotions flourishing for his charge—Dean Winchester, the human. His human.—then there was no way that he would be able to maintain custody of his assignment.

 

“You’ll have to clarify your meaning.” Castiel kept his voice steady, and he wondered if the two older angels could sense the dilemma that was shredding his insides with the power of a thunderstorm.

 

“Are you friends? How is the relationship progressing?” Michael spoke methodically.

 

He didn’t have to lie, did he? The questions were unspecific, and Castiel could tell bits of the truth without it being complete betrayal, right?

 

“I have to say that it is impossible for anyone to be in the same room as Dean for more than five minutes without becoming his friend.” Castiel ignored the burning behind his chest as he said the words. “His soul shines brighter than the sun itself, and I can certainly understand why his life is so important to be guarded.”

 

“But that’s it?” Anna’s grip on his shoulder tightened marginally. “You’re merely friends? I know that Zachariah didn’t adequately prepare you for the emotional aspect of becoming a Guardian, and it can be rather surprising.”

 

Castiel gritted his teeth. There was no avoiding the question; there was no way to skirt the truth and give half of an answer.

 

“I am aware that physical relationships between humans and angels are forbidden.” He nodded, speaking clearly as he chose every word with precision. “I would never do anything to jeopardize my assignment or Dean’s place in the Great Plan. I assure you that we are friends and nothing more, and that I would never desire anything physically from a human, certainly not the one that I an assigned to.”

 

There was a long pause, and Castiel would have given half of his grace to be able to see the expressions on both of their faces. Was it obvious that he was lying? How severe would his punishment be, now that he had not only acquired feelings for a human, but he had lied to the face of an archangel and a seraph?

 

“Very well.” Michael stood from his seat on the bench, and Castiel was confused when he disappeared.

 

Anna shifted next to him, sighing deeply. “I was afraid that he would never go. Don’t get me wrong, of all of the archangels, Michael is the least imposing, but he’s still so hard to be around.”

 

“I… I don’t understand what just happened.” Castiel said honestly.

 

“He was satisfied with your answers, so you’re free to go back to earth.” Anna answered, standing as well.

 

The guilt felt thick in Castiel’s chest, twisting in knots and settling at the pit of his stomach, underneath his lungs, making every breath that much more difficult to take in.

 

“Don’t just sit there, little one.” He felt fingers in his hair, a gesture of fondness on Anna’s part. “Go to him. I’m sure he’s worried about you.”

 

Castiel nodded, giving the seraph a grateful look before he flew to earth.

 

He landed at Dean’s side, and the human jumped, dropping the pair of pants he was folding.

 

“Shit, Cas.” Dean slapped a hand over his heart as if to will the adrenaline in his body to disappear. After a few labored breaths, Castiel had the full force of those eyes on him, but the twist of guilt in his stomach made it seem difficult to meet Dean’s gaze. “Is everything okay? You worried me for a bit there.”

 

“I’m alright.” The words were short and they caused Dean’s expression to contort into one of hurt, and Castiel immediately regretted them. Castiel couldn’t stand to see that look on Dean’s face, that glint of betrayal in those green eyes. The angel turned. “I’m going to rest. I don’t feel up to joining you at work tonight.”

 

He felt guilty for lying. He felt guilty for snapping at Dean. He felt guilty for his feelings, for a lot of things that were beyond his control. Castiel searched the recesses of his mind for a solution, a way to make himself feel better, and only one thing jumped out at him. If he could push Dean away, stop the feelings he was starting to feel, then he wouldn’t have been lying to Michael.

 

“Cas, hold up. Help me fold this stuff and talk to me. What happened up there? Did the hammer fall?”

 

The angel rounded on him. The concern in Dean’s voice felt like ice in his veins.

 

“I learned my lesson while I was away, Dean.” Castiel chose the words carefully, looking away from the dejected look on the human’s face. “I serve Heaven. I don't serve man. And I certainly don't serve you.”

 

He didn’t bother with walking to his room. Castiel flew there; manifesting his wings once he had landed and flopped onto the bed on his stomach. He felt like he might be sick. The angel flinched at the sound of the front door slamming shut only moments later, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for sleep to come quickly ad for his dreams to be void of green eyes.

 

xxxxxxx

 

When Castiel’s eyes popped open hours later, he didn’t feel any better and he was still exhausted. He sat up in the bed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair before standing. He frowned, sensing that the house was still empty. Of course it was, though. Dean was probably never coming back, unless it was to tell Castiel to get out of his house. The angel scrubbed at his face with his hands, deciding that it would be best to find a way to apologize to Dean before the human became determined to get Castiel fired.

 

He concentrated on Dean, extending his conscience and feeling his way to the Roadhouse. He could sense Dean’s presence still there, and there were no alarms going off in his brain to alert that he was in any form of danger. Castiel exited the bedroom, and entered the kitchen. The basket of unfolded laundry was still sitting on the table and Castiel smiled to himself, wondering how long he would have until Dean got home.

 

It was only a few hours later that the sound of the Impala’s engine met the angel’s ears. He exhaled, looking down at what he had been working on since he had woken up. There was a miniature zoo of animals folded from the clothes that were sitting on the table. He smiled again, finishing up a small horse when the door opened. Castiel wanted to look up, but he suddenly felt very foolish. He wondered what Dean’s reaction to an apology of this sort would be. Would he laugh? Would he still be angry? Or would he ignore it completely?

 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice made him jump. He should have been expecting the confused tone of the human’s voice. The angel pondered ignoring the questioning as he scooted the small t-shirt horse across the off white carpet.

 

Of course, he didn’t ignore it. Castiel looked up, meeting those green eyes. “Yes, Dean?”

 

The human was staring, his gaze flicking from Castiel to the animals around his feet. “What the hell is this?”

 

“It’s obviously an apology, Dean.”

 

There was a dragging sound that filled the silence as Castiel made the small horse gallop across the carpet, if only for a reason to take his eyes away from Dean.

 

“An apology?”

 

The human’s voice was soft, and Castiel heard his footfalls on the carpet as he crossed the room. He glanced up long enough to notice that Dean had toed his boots off and was making to sit next to him on the carpet.

 

“Yes.” Castiel spoke once Dean was seated, pulling his little horse into his lap to play with the edges of the fabric. “I was not in the best state for conversation earlier, but I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you.”

 

“It’s okay, Cas.” The human leaned closer a fraction of an inch, stealing the folded t-shirt. “We all have our bad days.”

 

He was taken aback by that. Castiel glanced up, watching Dean turn the little horse over in his hand for a thorough examination. He wondered if it was possible for this human to have a bad day, because it certainly seemed as if he was one of the most perfect of his Father’s creations.

 

“Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?”

 

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. He caught sight of Dean’s eyes when the human looked up, curiosity blooming across his face.

 

“Okay.”

 

Castiel found himself gnawing on his bottom lip. “I'm not a hammer, as you say. I have questions. I have doubts.” He spoke lowly, wondering why he would trust Dean with this information. And yet, it wasn’t the worst thing he could say. An expression of his feelings would be worse. And yet, he was shocked by the words that came out next. “I don't know what is right and what is wrong anymore.”

 

There was a long pause in conversation, and Castiel wondered if Dean was going to ever speak to him again. It was an excruciating truth to reveal, and he was still surprised that the words had fallen from his mouth so freely.

 

“What happened, Cas?”

 

There was a hand on his shoulder then, the heat moving through the thin fabric of his shirt and filling him with something foreign and terrifying.

 

“I spoke with Michael.” His voice was barely audible, and he wondered how bad it could possibly be if he admitted his feelings to Dean right here and now. Because it was obvious that Dean had some sort of attraction to him, or he wouldn’t be having inappropriate dreams. Castiel speculated, trying to imagine what the human’s reaction to such a blatant confession would be.

 

He could outright laugh in his face, explaining that one dream means absolutely nothing in the prolonged expanse of the human imagination. Castiel could almost feel the humiliation creeping up his neck, clutching his chest in such a constricting way that made it difficult to draw in air.

 

Dean could get genuinely upset. He could pity Castiel, making whatever friendship they have now awkward at best for the rest of the angel’s assignment. He could make excuses, compare Castiel to Aaron, and assert that the angel would never make him as happy as the addict did.

 

Then, there was the more favorable outcome. He could kiss Castiel properly, laying him out on the dining room floor and leaving him breathless in the best possible way.

The angel was jolted from his thoughts (thankfully) by a hand being waved in front of his face, attempting to catch his attention.

 

“You’re… Kind of a big deal in Heaven.” He confided, glancing up at Dean’s shocked expression and trying to erase any thought of the human’s full lips against his own. “There’s a lot of pressure on me to not screw this up, Dean.”

 

“Hey.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed marginally, molten heat against the fabric of his shirt. “You’re doing great, Cas.”

 

It was so, indescribably hard for Castiel not to turn and press their lips together. He wanted to. He wanted Dean. He wanted his stomach to stop leaping into his chest and crowding his heart, making his thoracic cavity seem to small for the organs inside of him. Instead, the angel stood.

 

“It’s late, Dean.” He figured it was approximately 4 am. “You should get some sleep.”

 

“I’m too worried about you to sleep.” Dean stood as well to level their gazes. “You can’t shut me out like that, Cas. I was a wreck tonight.”

 

There was a pause, and Castiel could feel the tension in the room even without his muffled link to Dean. The human floundered for words.

 

“I mean, I thought something was wrong, y’know? Like in Heaven or even here on earth or that someone had died or… Something.” Dean choked out before frowning deeply.

 

Castiel couldn’t help the hint of a smile that pulled at the corner of his lips. “Everything is fine.”

 

And, it wasn’t a lie. Because, for now, everything was indeed fine. For now, Michael had believed him, and that meant that he was staying with Dean until the lie became discernible. He should feel horrible for thinking about all of this so calmly, but I was hard to get worked up over a small lie when Dean was staring at him the way he was, especially when that small lie was the reason that Castiel was able to see Dean staring this way.

 

With that train of thought, he took a deep breath.

 

“I am tired, Dean. I think resting would be wise.”

 

“Alright, Cas. But only if you’re sure that it’s all okay—that you’re okay.”

 

The look in Dean’s eyes was full of so much warmth that Castiel had to close his own eyes to it.

 

“I’ll feel better in the morning.” The angel nodded, turning to splurge on one last glance to the human. “Goodnight, Dean.”

 

He didn’t wait for a response because he knew that, if Dean wanted him to, Castiel would stay in the dining room all night just to maintain eye contact. He landed in his room, stretching his wings out behind him. It wasn’t difficult to fall into bed—Castiel decided that if he was going to spend time immersing himself in humanity, he may as well enjoy the odd feeling of the springs bouncing underneath his weight as gravity took hold—and close his eyes. A few moments later, he heard the door open, but he didn’t move. The sound of footsteps met his ears, and he suddenly became aware of every point on his body, poised to strike whoever dared to sneak up on what appeared to be a sleeping angel. He wasn’t expecting, of course, the puff of breath against his cheek or the hand haphazardly carding through his hair.

 

What really surprised him, though, was Dean’s feather-light whisper. “Goodnight, Cas.”


	9. Just Starting to Crawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Balthazar.” Castiel hissed to silence him, an overwhelming feeling clawing at his gut.
> 
>  
> 
> Dean.
> 
>  
> 
> Dean was in trouble.
> 
>  
> 
> He had to get to Dean.
> 
>  
> 
> Had to protect Dean.
> 
>  
> 
> Had to.
> 
>  
> 
> Dean.
> 
>  
> 
> Castiel was at the human’s side in an instant, and he took a deep breath as the unrelenting, crushing fear in his body quelled. His wings manifested into existence, ready to be used if a fight was imminent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay shhhh everyone. It's totally still Tuesday (I'm sorry because it's not still Tuesday, but let's pretend.)
> 
> I had so much trouble writing this chapter. That's the reason it's late (but it's not really late because it's totally still Tuesday). There are so many cool little plot points that I want to add before everything explodes, and piecing it all together JUUUUUUST RIGHT was giving me a hard time this week. Essentially, what I'm saying is, I woke up at 3 am on Monday and wrote an entire chapter.
> 
> Lots of love to Lacey, because this chapter was a wreck until she corrected it for me (because it was written at 3 am).
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Say Something" by A Great Big World because this song is beautiful and amazing and just perfect.
> 
> Also, a cookie to anyone who actually reads all of this rambling.

The next morning, Castiel awoke to the smell of breakfast. He sighed, sitting up in the bed and stretching the muscles in his back that had been stagnant for the night. It was a glorious feeling, and Castiel savored it, knowing that he could have easily healed any stiffness in his body. When he entered the kitchen, he held back a smile at the fact that he had to step over miniature animals in order to cross the threshold.

 

  
“We should make a point to put the clothes up today.”

 

  
Dean jumped at the sound of the angel’s voice, his hand that wasn’t brandishing a spatula shooting to his heart as if to slow it.

 

  
“God damnit, Cas, we’re going to have to get you a bell.” The human took a steadying breath, turning to face the angel.

 

Castiel frowned, slightly confused. “Don’t blaspheme, Dean.” He flew onto the counter, sitting next to the stove. “What purpose would a bell achieve?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes, "To prevent you from scaring the crap out of me on a regular basis.”

 

“Oh.” Castiel watched as Dean flipped a piece of bacon over in the skillet before reaching inside and grabbing a finished piece.

 

Dean panicked.

 

“Cas you’re gonna…”

 

The human stared at the angel while he chewed. “What, Dean?”

 

“…Burn yourself.”

 

Castiel chuckled, taking another bite of the bacon in his hand. “I’m an angel, Dean. A grease burn is child’s play.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” The human gave Castiel a hard shove, and the angel yelped as he fell off of the counter.

 

“You’re insufferable.” Castiel spoke the words with no malice in them as he stood and ignored Dean’s chuckling.

 

Okay, so maybe it was harder than it should have been to just ignore the low-pitched peals of laughter that shook the human from head to toe. He had to force himself not to look at Dean’s face. He knew that there was probably a full-blown grin on his lips, and that would cause all sorts of feelings to stir in Castiel’s gut. Not that looking at him even counted, because just imagining the sight sent the angel plummeting into about twenty different emotions that he should not be feeling.

 

Feelings.

 

They were something that Castiel needed to avoid now that Michael had called him. Castiel knew that the archangel would be true to his word, checking in with him every other week or so to ask routine questions about Dean. The angel still felt guilty about lying. Of course, it didn’t necessarily have to be lying anymore. If Castiel could accept that he and Dean would never be anything more than friends, then he could be okay. In order to keep his emotions from going haywire, though, the angel needed something to distract him, a theoretic box that he could keep any Dean-related feelings in, locked tight and nailed shut.

 

“Earth to angel.” Dean’s voice pulled Castiel from his ponderings.

 

He looked up to see the human standing by the table, two full plates in hand and a truly concerned look marring his usually soft face.

 

“You okay, man?”

 

“I’m fine.” Castiel moved around Dean to sit at the table, giving the human a grateful look when a plate was set in front of him.

 

“Okay, so,” Dean pushed the eggs on his plate around with a fork. “I’ve been thinking and, if we’re going to convince everyone that you’re human, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

 

“Work?”

 

The thought perplexed Castiel, but he was the one who had suggested complete immersion in humanity in the first place. He took a bite of toast and stared blankly at Dean, waiting for some sort of explanation.

 

“Yeah. Like, I’ve noticed these little things that you do that could tip off someone who’s a little more observant than they should be—a smart cookie like Sammy, for instance. We don’t want people sniffing around because you’re not blinking often enough or something.” The human took a bite of the eggs he was pushing around, and the angel’s eyes immediately zoned in on the way his full lips wrapped around the tongs of his fork, and-

 

Castiel shook his head to clear it. A box. He was building a theoretical box for inappropriate thoughts. The angel quickly shoved the image of Dean’s lips into that box and relocked it.

 

“Are you suggesting that I’m not blinking enough? Because I’ve been doing it about twelve times per minute, which seems to be the average of the habitual instinct for many of the humans I have observed.”

 

“No, Cas. You blink just fine. But, maybe you could try not to stand or sit so straight all the time. Normal people slouch a little. And don’t maintain eye contact for too long. It’s creepy.”

 

The angel frowned at the last suggestion, his eyes moving from Dean’s gaze to where the human’s finger traced the rim of his coffee cup—the same one that Castiel had pieced together upon their first meeting.

 

“If you’re standing for a while, shift your weight from foot-to-foot. It’ll make you look like your legs are getting tired.” Dean spoke up again, narrowing his eyes in thought. “And you need a fidgety habit. Pick at your nails or crack your knuckles now and then.”

 

Of course, Castiel listened diligently. It was in his nature as a celestial being, after all; angels were created for obedience.

 

Breakfast passed quickly after that, and Castiel spent a good amount of time trying to figure out what a good ‘fidgety habit’ would be.

 

“Alright," Dean broke the silence when he shoved his plate away. “Let’s get cleaned up, and we’ll go grab some groceries.”

 

The human stood and made his way over to the sink, looking back at the angel expectantly.

 

“Come on, Feathers. Housework is a regular part of being human. If Sam or Bobby ever come over, and you don’t know how to load a dishwasher, the jig is up.”

 

Castiel stood, carrying his plate to the sink and standing next to Dean to look at the metal indentation in the countertop. “I don’t know what jig you are referring to, but if housework includes dancing, I think it would be best if I excluded myself.”

 

Dean chuckled at something that Castiel didn’t notice. “Look, you just open the dishwasher and put the stuff in.”

 

The angel watched carefully as Dean began to load the washer with the soiled dishes. He noted how the plates were placed standing up right, and the bowls and cups were facing downward, assuming that it was to assure optimal cleaning opportunity since the water appeared to be able to come from jets underneath the rack. Dean pulled out a bottle of soap and squirted a hefty amount into a small nook in the door before closing the machine and pressing a button on the outside of the door. He then grinned at the angel, and Castiel had to store the image of that almost-ethereal glow from the beaming human into his little box as well.

 

“Simple enough, right?” Dean raised his eyebrows, and Castiel nodded. “Alright. Counters.”

 

The angel frowned again, but followed Dean to a cabinet next to the refrigerator. He watched as the human pulled out a spray bottle of green liquid before reaching into a drawer and grabbing a cloth. Dean grinned, handing the bottle to Castiel.

 

“You spray, I’ll wipe. This isn’t really a two-man job, but you’re learning.”

 

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean’s slight blush, but he turned and pulled on the triggered handle of the bottle and watched as miniscule droplets left the nozzle and scattered themselves across the countertop. Honestly, it was beautiful. He squeezed the trigger and again, marveling at the color of the liquid dancing together with the lighting of the room.

 

“Slow down there, tiger.” Dean chuckled, the sound low and deep against Castiel’s ear, and the angel jerked away, disappearing and reappearing a few feet behind Dean.

 

The human whipped around, eyeing him. “What the hell, Cas? I was just leaning in to wipe up the cleaner.”

 

“You startled me.” The angel decided that the deep timbre of Dean’s chuckle needed to be filed away in that box as well. “Perhaps you should get a bell also.”

 

The human chuckled again, and Castiel closed his eyes to it, trying to block out the sound completely.

 

“Come back over here and finish. We still have to sweep and get dressed before we can go to the store.”

 

Castiel nodded, cautiously moving closer and watching the way Dean wiped up the liquid with the cloth. The angel pressed the lever once more, but this time, the scent of the cleaner invaded his sinus tract and caused a minute tickling sensation inside his nostrils. Castiel nearly flew to Heaven out of surprise when his whole body seized up under the force of the sneeze. Dean cackled at the sound of the small noise of shock that fell from Castiel’s lips, causing the angel to glare at him. Sweeping was easier to learn since it was much like the mopping that he did at the Roadhouse, and he appreciated the methodical striping of a broom across Dean’s hardwood floor.

 

Grocery shopping was another story entirely. 

 

When he followed Dean into the market, the angel was practically struck dumb at the wide selection of products for purchasing. He had no reservations walking in front of the cart, tugging on the metal to lead Dean down every aisle and looking at every single possibility. To the human’s credit, he didn’t complain about being pulled from one end of the store to the other, although Castiel suspected that he was a bit bored. As a matter of fact, neither of them spoke until Castiel was finished identifying every item on each shelf.

 

“This is glorious," the angel whispered while shaking a jar of sliced pickles and watching them swirl around in the glass containing them.

 

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re so damn excited about buying groceries?”

 

There was a slight tug in Castiel’s chest, and it shocked him as he realized that the feeling was coming from Dean. More specifically, it was the only thing he’d felt from the human since he had woken up. Castiel wondered if that meant that something was physically wrong with Dean, or was the human able to hide more from Castiel than the angel had originally thought?

 

“Angels do things differently, Dean. I was created to take orders. You have such a wide variety of selection here, and you get to choose what it is that you purchase. It’s a strange and liberating concept for me.”

 

“Cas, you’re not…” An unhappy churning radiated from Dean’s stomach, and Castiel frowned. “You’re not a puppet, man. You deserve a choice as much as any of us humans do.”

 

Of course, Castiel knew that that wasn’t true. He knew that having free will was something that his Father only granted to humans, and that he himself would never be able to choose which way his life was headed. He was predestined to be a Soldier, and then a Guardian. He would never be human, though. He would never have a choice. Still, the thought of Dean’s words sent an eerie chill up his spine. He almost didn’t notice when Dean slipped a couple of bottles of unscented, hypoallergenic cleaning products into the cart.

 

  
Almost.

 

 

 

XXXXXXX

 

 

 

Dean let Castiel help with dinner that night. He made spaghetti, since the angel had seemed to appreciate the meal when they had it at Bobby’s. While preparing the food, Castiel had to fill his imaginary box a little more.

 

The way Dean groaned obscenely as he licked the sauce from the wooden spoon.

 

The way he’d make little slurping noises when he cleaned the garlic and butter mixture from his fingers, sinking each digit into his mouth for a fraction of a second.

 

The way the Cupid’s bow of his lips wrinkled slightly as he sucked a noodle into his mouth to test if the pasta was cooked thoroughly enough.

 

All in all, the experience was rather frustrating for Castiel.

 

When the two finally sat down to eat, he sighed out of relief, bringing his lower lip into his mouth. Castiel had seen a young girl at the grocery store habitually chewing on her lip, and the angel decided that would be as good a habt as any that he could have come up with himself.

 

He stirred his pasta, glancing up quick enough to catch the human staring at him with narrowed eyes, an unfamiliar spiraling of flutters being ignored as he chastised the angel.

 

“Jesus, Cas. Stop it.”

 

“Don’t blaspheme, Dean," the angel replied immediately, watching as Dean scooped a forkful of spaghetti before he slurped the noodles into his mouth. The end of one of the noodles came up and smacked him in the nose, and Dean’s whole body shook with the force of his laugh.

 

Castiel was struck with a sharp feeling of _want_ —the feeling so fierce that he couldn’t tell who it was coming from—and he pushed his chair back from the table.

 

Dean stopped laughing, “Cas?”

 

“I have to… I need to…” He pointed upwards, hoping that Dean wouldn’t force him to lie.

 

Of course, Castiel didn’t give him much chance to beg for an explanation. He was sitting on his bench in a matter of nanoseconds.

 

He really shouldn’t have expected to be alone for more than a few minutes. Still, when the presence of another angel shifted the air around him, he took in a deep breath before looking up.

 

“Cassie.” Balthazar grinned around his name, but Castiel couldn’t return the sentiment.

 

“Am I never to be allotted even the smallest moment of peace?” He said the words between his teeth, yet he wasn’t surprised that the other angel sat next to him on the bench.

 

“I’ve been waiting for you to get away from Dean so I could have a word.” Balthazar’s voice was soft, serious, and it made Castiel look up at his brother.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“No. I just heard that you were called by Michael. I was worried about you. The guy is slightly severe.”

 

Castiel felt the corners of his mouth turning up at that. “Anna says that he’s not as bad as the others.”

 

“Really?” Balthazar sounded surprised, and Castiel was suddenly very grateful for his brother. He was hardly thinking about Dean now. “Gabe’s not too bad. Actually, I prefer Gabe to almost every other angel—you being the exception, of course.”

 

Castiel actually smiled at that. “You’re not completely incorrigible, either, brother.”

 

“Oh? ‘Not completely incorrigible?’ Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Balthazar chuckled before his voice got softer. “Really, though. You’re okay? Because you fleeing your charge to sit on a bench by yourself seems kind of troubling to me.”

 

Castiel grimaced. He could tell Balthazar about the emotions churning inside of him, but what would that accomplish? What if Balthazar accidentally slipped up and said something to Gabriel? Then, Gabriel would be forced to tell Michael, and all of Heaven would know that Castiel had lied.

 

Instead, he said:  
“Do you know if there’s a way for humans to block an angel from feeling their emotions?”

 

“Not that I’m aware of.” Balthazar spoke slowly. “Then again, that’s information that’s way above my pay grade. Have you asked Anna?”

 

“Not yet. It’s something that I’ve only recently noticed Dean doing,” Castiel said honestly. “I was worried that maybe something was wrong with him.”

 

“You should ask her. Or Zach, if you’re feeling brave. You might even need to bring it up to Michael next time he gives you a ring.” Balthazar shrugged. “Until then, I can ask around. Gabe might know something.”

 

“Thank you.” Castiel sighed, closing his eyes.

 

“So… There’s nothing else you want to discuss?”

 

The question made Castiel open his eyes again, looking over at his brother’s expectant gaze.

 

“Is there something _you_ want to discuss, Balthazar?”

 

“Well,” The blonde angel sat back on the bench, a grin on his lips that made Castiel regret asking about this. “Did you try dream-walking with your human?”

 

And, yes. Castiel deeply regretted this inquiry. He felt his face become hot under Balthazar’s stare and the memory of what Dean had dreamt of, not knowing which of these things affected him worse.

 

“I take it by the brightness of that blush…”

 

“Shut up, Balthazar.” Castiel squashed down the suffocating feeling as his heart seemed to claw its way up his throat.

 

“So? What happened?”

 

Castiel narrowed his eyes, his glare falling to the grass underneath him. “It was…”

 

He had two options here, since telling Balthazar about his feelings wasn’t a possibility. He could lie, or he could tell most of the truth. And, considering the fact that Castiel had lied one too many times already, he decided that filling Balthazar in on a little bit of his problem would be more beneficial than speaking falsely.

 

“It was frustrating.”

 

“Oh.” Balthazar’s voice was too cheery for its own good. “Do tell.”

 

“He dreamt of…” Castiel tried to keep his voice even, but he wasn’t sure if he was accomplishing anything. “Physical matters. Involving me.”

 

“How physical are we talking, Cassy? You didn’t seal the deal in a dream, did you? Because that’s cheating. It has to be in real life or your first time doesn’t count.”

 

“I would never take advantage of Dean like that, Balthazar.” Castiel frowned. “He was very enthusiastic about putting his mouth on me. My neck, specifically.”

 

Castiel gritted his teeth against the words, deciding that the entire dream sequence needed to be squashed into that hypothetical box along with everything else. Even just talking about it, the angel felt lips ghosting over his collarbone and up his jawline. Maybe he needed a bigger box.

 

“I see. And what are you planning on doing about it?”

 

He didn’t have to look up to know that Balthazar was waggling his eyebrows to hint at the obscenity of his thoughts.

 

“What do you mean? I’m not planning on doing anything about it. I’m ignoring it.”

 

“Ignoring it?” Castiel could hear the other angel’s frown. “Why on earth would you do that?”

 

“It’s illicit, Balthazar.” He spoke slowly, perhaps to reiterate the words to himself more than to his brother. “A relationship, physical or otherwise, between-”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Balthazar waved the words off with a grin. “There’s a difference in a fling and a relationship, Cassy.”

 

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to get a lecture?”

 

Castiel was slightly proud of the amount of sarcasm he managed to lace into the words.

 

“What’s this? Is my Cassy actually forming a sense of humor?” Balthazar scoffed. “Maybe being around humanity is a bad idea. I don’t know if Uriel will be able to stand a change in your usual stoic demeanor.”

 

Castiel chuckled, a barely audible thing, and shook his head.

 

“But, yes,” Balthazar continued his ranting. “I have quite the lecture.”

 

Castiel closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat, tuning out most of what his brother was saying. 

 

“You see, when one is making love to another man, the most important thing to remember is that you can never have too much lubrication. Listen to me when I say this, Cassy. If you think you have enough, add more, because you’re trying to squeeze a tyrannosaur into corn husk without breaking it. It’s the cardinal rule of anal sex in general, really, whether you’re with a man or a…”

 

There was an insistent tug in Castiel’s subconscious, and the angel frowned, standing up and cutting Balthazar off.

 

“Sorry, but am I boring you? This is vital infor-”

 

“Balthazar.” Castiel hissed to silence him, an overwhelming feeling clawing at his gut.

 

Dean.

 

Dean was in trouble.

 

He had to get to Dean.

 

Had to protect Dean.

 

Had to.

 

_Dean._

 

Castiel was at the human’s side in an instant, and he took a deep breath as the unrelenting, crushing fear in his body quelled. His wings manifested into existence, ready to be used if a fight was imminent. Then, the smell hit him. It was an appalling mixture of sulfur and burnt flesh, and it made the angel’s nostrils flare in surprise at the notion that any demon would dare step into the apartment he shared with Dean, a place that radiated angel energy.

 

The creature must be suicidal.

 

Castiel took in his surroundings, noting the way Dean had stepped into the shelter behind his wings to get out of the demon’s sight. The heat radiating from the human soaked through his feathers, assuring the angel that he was safe.

 

The creature was young in the eyes of the angel, less than five years spent in the pit, and probably full of enough ego for the entire apartment complex to have proper self-esteem if it were split between the thirty six humans that inhabited the building.

 

Castiel spread his wings wide, not exactly knowing if he was more worried with shielding Dean or displaying dominance over the creature.

 

“Oh, Dean," the demon hissed. “You’ve found a new toy.”

 

“You will leave.” Castiel took a step forward, immediately feeling empty without that point of heat to tell him that Dean was alright. He could hear the human’s heart pounding, feel his confusion whipping around in his abdomen. “Now.”

 

“Will I?” The demon leaned to the side to peer around the angel, shooting a snarky look at the human behind him.

 

And, that was it for Castiel. He rushed forward, taking the creature by surprise and slamming it face first into the open frame of the front door, the same way he had dealt with the demon Ruby. Castiel preferred to deal with demons this way, not having to look at their faces when he killed them. What the angel wasn’t expecting was for the demon to press backwards, moaning obscenely where he was pinned against Castiel’s chest.

 

The angel took a reflexive step backwards, distancing himself from the creature with a hiss.

 

And that was the opportunity the demon needed to slip out of the apartment. Castiel’s instinct was to chase after it, to smite it and prevent it from ever going near Dean again, but a small broken noise behind him made the angel turn.

 

“Dean?” Castiel was surprised to see the man on the floor, back against the wall with his head in his hands. The angel squatted in front of him. “Dean, speak to me. Are you hurt?”

 

“How is it possible?” The human’s voice was soft, a destroyed noise that fell from his lips to betray the amount of turmoil he was feeling.

 

“How is what possible, Dean?” Castiel grabbed one of Dean’s wrists, pulling it away from his face to try and encourage eye contact. The angel noticed that he looked exhausted.

 

The human’s eyes were closed as he let his head loll back against the wall behind him, though. Castiel didn’t waste any more than a few seconds contemplating the action before he scooped Dean into his arms and carried him to his bedroom. He laid the human down and sat at the edge of the bed.

 

“Sleep, Dean. We’ll talk in the morning.” Castiel placed two fingers on the man’s forehead and sighed as he felt consciousness slipping from Dean’s mind.

 

“Aaron, Cas,” Dean rasped, his words slurring underneath the weight of his exhaustion combined with the angel making him sleep. “That… whatever it was… It was Aaron.”


	10. Howling Ghosts, They Reappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel felt that coil inside him twisting tighter, and he took a deep breath, battling with his instincts. He wanted to run, to find a secluded place to grieve properly, but he knew that he needed to stay by Dean’s side. Maybe if Aaron hadn’t turned back up, Castiel wouldn’t feel that it was necessary to be here when the human woke up. He knew that Dean would be a wreck, but he was also uncertain as to how he could be of any use to his assignment if he was in no better shape.
> 
>  
> 
> In the end, the angel decided to fly into the kitchen, landing on the very counter that Balthazar had prepared Dean’s coffee on. The spiral of emotion inside him snapped then, and Castiel doubled over with the force of it. He felt the familiar sensation of warm liquid tracking its way down his face, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care because he had never experienced the throbbing burn that was now snaking around his heart. He wrapped his arms around his torso, somehow looking to comfort himself with the action, but there was no consolation to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no.  
> This is a bad chapter and I'm sorry.  
> There's plot feelings and I'm sorry.
> 
> Next chapter will be better-- I promise. OH I'll have to post the next chapter either a few days early or a few days late. I'm going out of town for Christmas, and I don't know how the wifi situation will be.
> 
> Shoutout to Lacey, the person who completes me and makes this fic possible.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "King and Lionheart" by Of Monsters and Men. A++ song, guys.
> 
> OH AND ONE MORE THING BEfore you start reading:  
> I love you. And thank you for reading this. (:

Dean was sleeping so soundly that Castiel didn't feel the need to move from the bed. He was worried about the emotional toll of seeing Aaron, and how the demon’s presence would affect Dean.

 

“Castiel.”

 

The angel didn’t know how long he had been sitting there staring at the slumbering human when he heard the voice. Castiel turned from where he was sitting at the edge of Dean’s bed, confused to see Anna sitting on the opposite side of the human. He almost bristled at the thought of any other creature being so close to Dean after the human had suffered something so traumatic, but Castiel steeled himself and waited for the Seraph to speak.

 

“Something’s happened.”

 

Anna’s words were quiet, and Castiel nodded in response to them. He kept his eyes on the small stitches lining the comforter that was covering the human. Of course, something happened. He hadn’t even thought of how all of Heaven would react when they heard of Castiel’s inability to apprehend Aaron.

 

“A demon," he replied. He knew that Zachariah would probably be leaping with joy at the fact that Castiel had failed to do his job. “It was a soul that had attached itself to Dean before death. I’m sorry, Anna. I failed in eliminating the threat because I was worried for Dean’s emotional state.”

 

“No, Castiel.” The emotion in Anna’s voice made him look up.

 

It was an odd reflex to have, considering her rank above him. Anna didn’t seem bothered by his slip in formalities, though. Her eyes were sad as she stared at him, and Castiel was suddenly very worried.

 

Were they going to take Dean away simply because he had let the demon escape?

 

Or worse, did Michael know that he had lied?

 

“Anna.” Castiel tried to keep his voice even, but he found it difficult. “What’s wrong?”

 

“There was an attack on members of the Garrison. Two angels are dead.”

 

Castiel felt the cold sensation of shock sweeping through his body. It was immediately followed by a sticky coating of worry lining his stomach and a thick fog of anger filling his chest. Of course, Castiel had no reason to feel guilty; he was no longer a Soldier. Still, there was a part of him that longed to believe that he could have done something to prevent this, to save whoever it was that had needed saving.

 

Which two angels had they lost?

 

That was a question that he needed answered. The worry in his stomach started to creep upward to claw at his lungs and make him feel suffocated. Anna wouldn’t have felt the need to deliver the news personally unless it was someone that Castiel was close to.

 

“Who did we lose?”

 

The words barely slipped out past the bile rising in his throat, and Castiel felt a coil of sadness tightening in his chest.

 

“Rachel," Anna said the name slowly. “And Balthazar.”

 

Castiel felt as if the room turned upside down. He exhaled slowly, letting out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

 

“What happened?” He was surprised to hear that he spoke steadier than he thought he should be able to. “Who did this?”

 

“We don’t know.” Anna shook her head, and Castiel wished he could find a polite way to ask her not to look at him with such sadness and pity. He closed his eyes to it. “There were signs of a struggle, a fight among angels.”

 

“Angels?” He stood from the bed, glancing at Dean when the springs creaked. He spoke again only once he was certain that the human wouldn’t wake. “You’re telling me that there’s a rogue angel out there?”

 

“Michael is certain that the attacker was a Soldier. We’re doing everything we can to find out who did this.” Anna stood as well, slowly making her way around the bed to put her hand on Castiel’s shoulder in what should have been a consoling gesture; he had to resist shrugging it off. “I’m so sorry, Castiel.”

 

“I…” Castiel blinked and took a step back.

 

He wanted Anna to leave. He wanted to scream, to find a way to make the pit in his stomach stop growing before it overtook him completely.  
Luckily, the Seraph seemed to understand.

 

“If you need me to find someone to watch over Dean while you grieve, brother, I can do that.”

 

Castiel nearly hissed at her.

 

No. No, no, no.  
If anything, the thought of being away from Dean somehow made the ache inside him grow to an inconsolable level. He shook his head, not trusting his mouth to open without letting out some sort of pitiful wailing sound.

 

“If you’re worried about him, I’ll do it myself.” She spoke soothingly, but her words felt like razor wire being threaded through his ears. “I don’t want you to hurt, brother.”

 

Castiel shook his head again, the action almost imperceptible, and he sent a silent prayer to his Father that Anna would understand.

 

“Very well.” The redhead nodded, and Castiel visibly relaxed a miniscule amount. “I’ll send someone to check in on you soon.”

 

And then she was gone.

 

Castiel felt that coil inside him twisting tighter, and he took a deep breath, battling with his instincts. He wanted to run, to find a secluded place to grieve properly, but he knew that he needed to stay by Dean’s side. Maybe if Aaron hadn’t turned back up, Castiel wouldn’t feel that it was necessary to be here when the human woke up. He knew that Dean would be a wreck, but he was also uncertain as to how he could be of any use to his assignment if he was in no better shape.

 

In the end, the angel decided to fly into the kitchen, landing on the very counter that Balthazar had prepared Dean’s coffee on. The spiral of emotion inside him snapped then, and Castiel doubled over with the force of it. He felt the familiar sensation of warm liquid tracking its way down his face, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care because he had never experienced the throbbing burn that was now snaking around his heart. He wrapped his arms around his torso, somehow looking to comfort himself with the action, but there was no consolation to be found.

 

Castiel lost track of time. He wasn’t sure what time it was when he finally leaned back and let his head fall against the cabinet behind him. He took deep breaths, trying to let his body find the restfulness it longed for, but he was unsuccessful. Castiel closed his eyes, and he almost broke again when the fluttering of his eyelids caused more tears to spill from his eyes. He knew that he needed to pull himself together—that Dean would be waking up soon and he needed to be able to give the human an explanation for what had happened earlier—but the angel was so tired. He took another deep breath; the exhale came out ragged against his lips before he hopped down from the counter. With a little bit of concentration, he managed to erase any sign of his breakdown from his face—the red spots on his cheeks from rubbing uselessly at the tears that wouldn’t stop, and the puffiness that had settled underneath his eyes. His legs felt unsteady, but it didn’t matter, because he could hear the telltale sound of springs shifting in the other room as a pulse of anxiety and confusion radiated from an awakened Dean.

 

“Cas?”

 

Castiel flew to Dean’s room, landing in a sitting position at the edge of the bed, and he could feel the human relax at the sight of him. “Dean.”

 

“Cas, what happened? I saw… I mean… He was in my living room.”

 

The angel took a deep breath, opening his mouth to explain. “When a human soul goes to hell, it is tortured until it turns into a demon.”

 

Dean’s eyes widened at that, and the human sat up. “Aaron. He’s a demon?”

 

Castiel felt an unfamiliar twinge of emotion at the sound of Dean’s voice when he said the other man’s name. The human was taking this surprisingly well, though, despite the curl of uncertainty that the angel felt coming from him.

 

“I’m afraid so," the angel replied. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I should have been here. He wouldn’t have come if I had-”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Castiel frowned, looking down at himself. Was it that obvious that he was being shredded alive on the inside? “I’m fine, Dean. I-”

 

“No, dude. You’re not.” Dean hesitantly reached out to touch the angel’s cheek, and Castiel held perfectly still.

 

The way Dean was looking at him with so much worry, so much care, it nearly broke the angel in half. He knew that focusing on something other than the obvious problem at hand was probably taking the human’s mind off of what had happened, but Castiel wasn’t ready to talk about this. He was hurting. He was almost certain that parts of him were dying, and he couldn’t let Dean see that side of him.

 

So, for the second time in all the years of Castiel’s existence, he lied.

 

“I’ll be alright.”

 

Dean lay back against the bed again, making Castiel wonder if maybe he should find out if they were going to work tonight or not. The human still looked exhausted.

 

“What happened?” Dean looked over at him, and the angel almost cringed.

 

He was already starting to feel that unpleasant guilt tugging at his insides for lying to Dean, but he didn’t know what else to say.

 

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

 

“You’re not in trouble, are you? Because of me? Because of…” Dean frowned around the words, and Castiel was suddenly very aware of how close the two of them were. 

 

The heat from the human’s body was pressed against the side of Castiel’s hip, and he could feel it radiating through the layers of fabric between them. The angel gritted his teeth, opening that box inside his head just enough to shove the thought of warm inside it. This was too inappropriate a time for him to be having such thoughts, and yet, he somehow thought that Balthazar would be pleased by it.

 

And yeah, that jarred him from his contemplations.

 

“I’m not in trouble because of you, Dean.” The angel looked down at his hands, which were twitching nervously in his lap. “I’m not in trouble at all, actually.”

 

He was surprised when the heat moved closer, and Castiel looked up to see that Dean was sitting up again, right next to him, their faces merely inches apart.

 

“Talk to me, man. I hate seeing you like this.”

 

Castiel could feel his resolve crumbling, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It wasn’t unusual for Guardians to form attachments to their assignments, but discussing emotions or any sort of Garrison business was a rare thing. Still, even as he thought this, the idea of telling Dean about this ache inside him was rather tempting. He wondered if the human would have any suggestions as to how he should deal with this feeling inside of him. The angel sat back slightly to create more distance between their faces.

 

“There was an attack on my Garrison.”

 

The words fell from his lips without his consent, and Dean looked overcome with the same amount of shock that Castiel felt.

 

“What?” The human shook his head, his frown deepening enough to cause worry lines at the corners of his eyes.

 

Castiel absently considered reaching out to smooth the worry from Dean’s face. This man didn’t deserve anything less than to be smiling all the time.

 

“Two angels died.”

 

“Cas, I’m…” Dean shook his head, and the angel was thoroughly confused by the feelings emanating from him. The human twitched out as if he was intending to reach for Castiel, but was resisting it. “I’m sorry. Was it anyone you were close to?”

 

Castiel frowned, his gaze traveling down at his hands again. He couldn’t bear to see Dean looking at him like that—the same way that Anna had looked at him.

 

“Balthazar.” He said the name slowly, trying to ignore the way the sound of it made him feel hollow. “There are—were—only two of my brothers that I ever felt close to. Balthazar was one of them.”

 

The feeling of Dean’s finger against his cheek startled him, and Castiel didn’t remember when he started to cry again, but there was wetness on the human’s finger when he pulled it away.

 

“Cas…”

 

He shook his head, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “Are we going to the Roadhouse tonight? Because we’re going to be late if we don’t-”

 

“No.” Dean cut him off with a shake of his head. “I’ll text Ash and let him know.”

 

“Dean, you don’t-”

 

“Shut up, Feathers.” Dean shoved his shoulder gently, reaching into his pocket for his phone. The human typed out a quick message before lying back down and kicking his boots off of his feet and into the floor. He scooted to the other side of the bed and raised a brow at the angel as he lay on his side facing him. “Lose the shoes and coat and lay down.”

 

“Dean, this is…” The angel stared at him, noting the slight dusting of pink across his cheeks, and he couldn’t remember how he was supposed to finish his sentence.

 

Hardly appropriate?  
Bad timing?  
Too good to be true?  
Unnecessary?

 

Instead of speaking anymore, though, Castiel stood and toed his shoes off before shucking his jacket from his shoulders. He sat back down next to Dean and laid on his back, getting used to the foreign feeling of the human’s pillow; it was much softer than his own. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, but he ignored the sensation of the human’s gaze crawling over his skin.

 

“What are we going to do about Aaron?”

 

The angel tried not to notice the way Dean’s breath caught around the demon’s name.

 

“If he is foolish enough to return, I will protect you.”

 

Castiel also ignored the fierceness in his own voice. The mere thought of the creature touching Dean in any way was enough to get him seething.

 

“Was it… Was it a demon that attacked your home?” Dean spoke slowly, as if he was afraid of asking.

 

“I wish it had been," Castiel answered truthfully.

 

“So, if not a demon, then what? What could kill an angel?”

 

“Another angel.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, and Castiel hated it. He hated the way he was feeling right now, the anger and the malice that curled deep inside of him.

 

“Another…?” Dean’s voice was low, laced in shock and confusion. “Who would do something like that?”

 

“I don’t know, Dean.” Castiel looked over at the human then, and all of his anger slipped away. He suddenly felt very helpless. “I am not used to feeling so much at once. Is it ever going to stop?”

 

“Cas. I’m sorry.”

 

And yes, the angel knew that it was unfair to pin these emotions onto Dean, especially after what he had experienced today, but Castiel felt as if there was no other option. He moved his eyes back to the ceiling and he was unsurprised when a feeling of dread settled over him. Dean’s answer—or lack thereof—had been enough confirmation for the angel. He was never going to stop hurting. He was always going to feel empty. His eyes were burning again, and Castiel blinked, the tears escaping his eyelids and rolling their way down the side of his face toward his ears.

 

“I’m so sorry," Dean repeated, but his voice was much closer.

 

Castiel glanced over and saw him scooting close; he threw an arm over the angel’s chest to hold him in what would normally be an embrace. He felt Dean’s leg swing over one of his own, hooking their ankles together, and Castiel was oddly comforted by the closeness.

 

“Sleep.” The human’s breath was hot and even against Castiel’s skin, and he immediately shut his eyes.

 

“Dean.” He was trying to protest, but he couldn’t come up with a sane reason to leave the human’s bed.

 

“Shh.” He was hushed, and Dean sounded so incredibly tired. “Stay, Cas. Sleep.”

 

And he did.

 

xxxxxxx

 

When Castiel awoke, he was immediately struck with the sensation of another presence in the apartment. He could feel the weight of Dean’s body pressed against him, the human’s muscles having gone slack in the fog of slumber. Castiel slid away from him as slowly as possible, trying not to think about how much of a shame it was that he had to pull out of the embrace. As soon as he was standing, Castiel manifested his wings, walking slowly down the hall toward where he felt another presence.

 

There was no distinctive smell of sulfur or burning, so he was fairly certain that it wasn’t Aaron or any other demon. The angel’s wings twitched in anticipation as he peeked around the corner to lay eyes on a teenage boy sitting at the kitchen table. It was an angel, and he looked utterly devastated.

 

“Castiel.” The angel stood and turned to face him, causing Castiel to move from the hallway and into the kitchen.

 

“Are you the angel that Anna sent to check on me?” He frowned as he looked the boy over, keeping his wings manifested in case this angel happened to be the one who had killed Rachel and Balthazar.

 

“I am Samandriel," the other angel replied. “I volunteered to come. I only wished to meet you.”

 

Castiel felt his head tilting to the side out of confusion. “Why?”

 

Samandriel's gaze fell to the floor. “Balthazar spoke so highly of you.”

 

He could hear the way the younger angel’s voice cracked around Balthazar’s name, and Castiel was suddenly very sad.

 

“I know almost everything about you, Castiel. You were his closest friend.” Samandriel’s face was crumpled under the weight of his emotions, and Castiel wanted to console him, but he didn’t know how. So, instead of speaking, he moved into the room and made his wings vanish, sitting at the table and putting his head in his hands. Samandriel sat as well, taking deep breaths before he spoke again.

 

“He meant a lot to me.”

 

“You two were… involved? Physically?” Castiel asked the question hesitantly. He didn’t want to offend Samandriel with the inquiry, but he was curious.

 

“No.” The angel shook his head, and Castiel noticed something akin to fondness in his eyes. “Balthazar is-” Samandriel stopped speaking and took a breath, his face falling into one of mourning. “Was.” The angel sighed the word, shaking his head to compose himself once more. “He was vulgar and boisterous, yes, but our association was much more emotional than physical. We never engaged in intimate acts because we didn’t need to; our connection was strong enough to stand on its own without physical aspects.”

 

“But you loved him.” It wasn’t a question, because Castiel knew the answer already.

 

“Loved is past tense, Castiel.” Samandriel scrubbed his eyes with his hands. “It implies that I have, in fact, stopped loving him. And that is a lie.”

 

Castiel looked down at the dark grains of the wooden table. He traced one of the markings with his index finger, trying to decide what to say.

 

“I regret it, Castiel," Samandriel whispered.

 

When he looked up, Castiel noted that the younger angel had rested his head in his hands, elbows braced on the table. “You regret what?”

 

“That I never kissed him.” The words were soft, barely audible. “That I never took into account that he might be gone one day. I made a grave miscalculation; I never thought I’d be without him.” Their eyes met then, and Castiel could sense Samandriel’s turmoil. “I should have kissed him. I should have loved him in all aspects. While he was here, I should have- Should have just-” He took a breath and closed his eyes. “I’ll never know now, will I?”

 

“I’m sorry.” Castiel said the words sincerely, wanting so desperately to help but unsure of how to succeed in doing so.

 

“Your human.” Samandriel’s eyes were on him again. “Balthazar told me that you cared for him.”

 

“What?” Castiel frowned, sitting back in his chair in an attempt to distance himself from the words. “I told him no such thing.”

 

“You didn’t have to.” There was a small, sad grin tugging at the corner of Samandriel’s lips. “He told me he could read you like a book. He said that you were ‘so far gone on the human that he could hardly hear you over the denial you were constantly screaming.’ Is it… Is it true? You care for your human?”

 

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He never should have spoken to Balthazar about Dean. And yet, a part of him wondered if there had been a point in lying to him at all, since the other angel obviously knew. He was struck with yet another wave of grief at the idea of Balthazar dying with the thought of his best friend being a liar. Was he disgusted with him? Castiel didn’t think so, especially since Balthazar had encouraged him to make his relationship with Dean something more than merely friendship.

 

“You don’t have to say anything. Just… Listen to me. Please.” Samandriel caught his attention again.

 

Castiel glanced up at him and nodded, not really sure what to expect as relationship advice from this young angel he had just met.

 

“Tell him.”

 

Castiel was certain that he looked as surprised as he felt upon hearing the words.

 

“Just tell him. Human life is so much more fragile than that of an angel. I never thought I’d lose Balthazar, and yet here I am giving you relationship advice because he was too afraid to offend you. Because he’s gone.”

 

Samandriel paused to collect himself again before continuing. “The fact of the matter is, you’re going to lose your human one day. His life is going to end, and you’re going to have to move on, but for now, just…”

 

Another pause.

 

“He wanted this for you. He was always so worried about you, Castiel. He said that you’d never have enough heart to find someone—that you were always too focused on your duties or too scared to pursue anything—but I think that maybe having too much heart is your problem. You’re so afraid of experiencing something wonderful and having it ripped from you that you won’t open up. Am I right?”

 

Castiel’s jaw was slack as he stared at Samandriel. “I…”

 

“It’s okay.” The other angel shook his head. “But—take it from someone who’s had it ripped away—the only thing I regret is not having more. Not meeting him sooner, or not making him laugh enough, or not hearing one more filthy joke. I don’t regret loving him. I don’t regret letting him in. It hurts—Father, help me—it hurts, but I don’t regret him. And, since you’re his best friend, you’re the closest thing I have to him. I don’t want you to regret either, Castiel.”

 

There was a pause before Castiel opened his mouth to speak, bit he was cut off by an unhappy groan coming from the bedroom.

 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was coated with sleep.

 

“I’m in the kitchen Dean.” The angel called, and when he looked to Samandriel, the younger angel was gone.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

Castiel could barely hear Dean’s pillow-muffled voice.

 

“Just… Thinking.” He kept his voice raised so the human could hear.

 

And he was. Samandriel’s words were buzzing around his skull like a swarm of insects.

 

“What time is it?” Dean mumbled, and Castiel frowned, figuring that it was around 3 o’clock in the morning.

 

“Too early for you to be awake, Dean. Go back to sleep.”

 

“Get your feathery ass back in here.” He sounded annoyed, and Castiel was beside the bed in an instant.

 

“Do you need something, Dean?”

 

The human scowled up at him, and Castiel ignored the notion that it was the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

 

“Get back in bed. You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you sit and think about everything too long," Dean grumbled, scooting over enough for the angel to have room to lie down.

 

When Castiel looked at the empty spot in the bed, he thought of a younger angel and his grief over not having loved his Balthazar properly. It should have taken him longer to consider the action, but Castiel was lying next to Dean before he realized it. The human curled around him, humming in a pleased tone as he drifted off. The angel had so much to worry about, though.

 

There was a rogue angel on the loose, killing his brothers and sisters.

 

Aaron had expressed interest in Dean, meaning that there was a good possibility of him coming back for the human.

 

There was still a chance of Michael finding out that he had lied.

 

Another angel knew about his feelings for Dean.

 

Oh, and he still didn’t know if it was normal for a human to be able to hide his emotions from angels.

 

Castiel closed his eyes and prayed for his body to relax. The angel’s head was swimming with so much concern that he could hardly find any reason to be lying in a bed when there were numerous other things he could be doing. Dean mumbled something in his sleep then, shifting close enough that his nose pressed gently to the skin underneath Castiel’s ear as he tightened his hold on the angel. Castiel let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding, all of the tension leaving his body.

 

He knew that he should add Dean’s innate ability to calm him in even the most difficult situations to that list of things to worry about, but that could wait until morning. Castiel fell into a welcome state of ease, and the steady rhythm of Dean’s breathing against his ear was enough to finally lull him to sleep.


	11. You're in my Blood Like Holy Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angel felt heat fanning out from behind his ribs. It engulfed him, making its way across his body in a scorching trail that left him breathless as he pressed back minutely into the now insistent nudging. He wanted to roll over, wanted to taste Dean on his lips, and –
> 
> “Cas.” The human whispered his name against his skin, and Castiel was yanked back to reality.
> 
> This was wrong.
> 
> This was an abomination.
> 
> And yet, this was Dean. How could anything be wrong if it was with Dean? The thought was a blasphemous thing that invaded his mind before he realized what was happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay wow this is late and I hope you don’t hate me for that.  
> I went across country for Christmas, and the New Year's happened and ugh.  
> Okay. I'll stop boring you.  
> HERE'S YOUR CHAPTER FINALLY.
> 
> Shoutout to Lacey who keeps me sane and dedicated to this fic.
> 
> Chapter title is taken from "A Case of You" by Joni Mitchell.

Castiel awoke to the feeling of breath on the back of his neck. It was something that alarmed him until he remembered where he was—lying in Dean’s bed, back pressed against the human’s chest. It was oddly comforting, and Castiel allowed himself a few moments of peace before he was overcome by every single crushing thought that had been forced upon him the night before. He shifted minutely, realizing that, sometime during the night, Dean had engulfed him in a tight embrace, wrapping him in an inescapable nest of arms and legs and blankets.

Not that the angel minded.

He sighed and relaxed into the human’s hold, trying to battle with the heady consideration of going back to sleep. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to get lost in the warmth that surrounded him and the rhythmic breathing against the nape on his neck. It was a tempting thought—to spend an entire day enveloped in these overtly tight, lightly freckled arms. And yet, Castiel’s thoughts were starting to prod against the top of his skull, threatening to crack the bone and break free in order to find a solution of their own accord.

He wondered if it would be acceptable for him to call upon Michael instead of their meetings happening the other way around. He would like to know the logistics of the search for the rogue angel; he would like to help in any way possible. Castiel knew that there had been nothing he could have done to save his friend and his sister from dying at the hands of this wayward brother of his, but he still felt compelled to find the attacker and stop anyone else from getting hurt. He was aware that there was no way (short of a miracle from a mostly-silent God) to bring Balthazar back, but if anything, he could get some answers as to why he had to lose one of the two friends he could claim to have.

Thoughts of Balthazar brought forth thoughts of Samandriel. Castiel wasn’t necessarily worried about the young angel telling the others about his feelings for Dean, and that notion was slightly relaxing to him. If Balthazar had trusted Samandriel with his heart, then Castiel could trust him with this secret. Still, the words that Samandriel had spoken last night were teasing the corners of Castiel’s mind.

_“The fact of the matter is, you’re going to lose your human one day. His life is going to end, and you’re going to have to move on, but for now, just… Tell him.”_

It was painful—The thought of being without Dean. Castiel wondered how the human would react upon hearing the words, the truth that he was hiding so desperately.

Then, there was still the matter of Aaron. He didn’t know why the demon had decided to make an appearance yesterday, but Castiel didn’t care about his reasoning. It was particularly reckless for a demon to attack a human that had been assigned a Guardian, especially when that human was Dean Winchester. It was no secret to Heaven or Hell that Dean was important; the talk of angels often managed to reach the ears of even the most loathsome of creatures. So, why would Aaron risk his own life to show himself to Dean? Maybe the human part of the demon was still pining for Dean?

That sent a spike of anger into Castiel’s chest, and he immediately squashed it down, refusing to think about it. It was true that the demon was young by Heaven’s standards, but there was something more than just youth pushing a decision as wholeheartedly stupid as striking against a human with angelic protection. But what could it be?

Castiel rolled over different options in his mind, not entirely sure if he could land on one particular idea. Either way, despite the demon’s reasons for making himself known, Castiel knew that there was one constant factor in every formidable situation: He would protect Dean.

No matter what the demon had in store, Castiel would-

The angel’s brain almost short-circuited as it came to an immediate halt when he felt a steady pressure against his lower back. It only took him a fraction of a second to realize what it was, and Dean’s mumbled nonsense against the back of Castiel’s neck was enough to tell the angel that the human was still asleep, unaware of what he was doing. Castiel held perfectly still, knowing that he should get up. His shirt had ridden up during his slumber, and the tented area of Dean’s pajama pants was pressing against his skin every time the human shifted forward slightly in an almost imperceptible roll of his hips.

The angel felt heat fanning out from behind his ribs. It engulfed him, making its way across his body in a scorching trail that left him breathless as he pressed back minutely into the now insistent nudging. He wanted to roll over, wanted to taste Dean on his lips, and –

“Cas.” The human whispered his name against his skin, and Castiel was yanked back to reality.

This was wrong.

This was an abomination.

And yet, this was _Dean_. How could anything be wrong if it was with Dean? The thought was a blasphemous thing that invaded his mind before he realized what was happening.

And now, the grinding of hardness against him was more purposeful, and the human’s breath was shallow against the angel’s skin, and he was aware that the sleep had faded from Dean’s body.

“Turn around," Dean whispered, and Castiel immediately did as he was told, looking up into the human’s eyes and being stricken with a single thought of _green_ before they were being slotted together so perfectly that the angel felt an astonished noise being punched from his chest.

Castiel remembered watching the earth being created. He could recall, to the most miniscule detail, the way his skin warmed when the sun cast out its first radiating wave of heat. He could explain in words unknown to the human brain the way it felt to be surrounded by clouds—an almost liquid, almost solid pressure against his wings as he soars through the sky effortlessly. The point is, Castiel had felt a lot of things.

He’d felt pleasant sensations and also painful responsiveness.

Nothing— _nothing_ —would ever equate to the feeling of being surrounded by Dean in the early morning light.

There were lips on his neck, and their hips were rocking together in a way that made the angel’s lungs burn from the deep gasps of oxygen he was pulling in. He felt the human’s hands pulling him closer, slipping underneath the waistband of his own pants and pushing them down.

“Need you," Dean murmured, pulling away enough to shove Castiel’s pants out of the way.

And then, the human was lining them up and the heat throbbing underneath the angel’s skin was threatening to overtake him, but the moment his erection touched Dean’s, he was lost.

Castiel’s eyes snapped open and took a deep breath as his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the room. Dean’s arm was slung over him, and a light snore was escaping his lips every time he inhaled. Castiel felt an uncomfortable sensation in his pants and he grimaced before noticing that the human was slowly rolling his hips into the mattress.

Oh.

Castiel had unknowingly crept into Dean’s dream.

_Oh._

Dean was still dreaming about him, even after Aaron had showed up?

The angel was out of Dean’s arms in a matter of seconds, sitting upright, back rigid as he faced away from the human on the other side of the bed. He heard the springs shifting as the human got resituated without a warm body to sleep against. An unhappy noise escaped Dean’s throat, and his breathing became shallower, alerting Castiel to his wakefulness.

“Hello, Dean.” The angel spoke slowly, sparing a glance over his shoulder just in time to see the human cringing as he turned to look at him. “What were you dreaming about?”

The question came out of his mouth before he could stop the words, and Castiel immediately regretted them until the blood started rushing into Dean’s face, contrasting nicely to the freckles smattered across his cheeks. The human shook his head, muttering something that sounded like ‘ _don’t remember_ ’, but Castiel could tell that he was lying. He narrowed his eyes in thought before flying into the kitchen, allowing Dean to go to the restroom in peace.

It was an alarmingly long time before Dean came into the kitchen, and Castiel wondered if he had made the human too uncomfortable by asking about his dreams. Twenty minutes later, though, Dean shuffled into the room, scrubbing at his eyes.

“Did you make coffee?” the human grumbled. “Coffee sounds great. Please tell me you made some.”

Castiel paled. “I, um… I’m not sure how to work the machine. I could fly down the street and get you something, if you would prefer?”

“Oh.” Dean looked at him, then, and Castiel’s heart leapt into his throat.

Then again, the angel wasn’t sure if the matted ball of warmth was radiating from himself or Dean, but he decided that particular emotion needed to be locked up tight inside his metaphorical box of all things Dean.

Along with everything that had happened earlier.

“It’s cool, man.” Dean shrugged, moving closer. “Let me show you how to work the coffee maker.”

Castiel gave him a shaky nod, not sure if he trusted his voice enough to speak. He watched as Dean pulled out the ingredients for his coffee, aware of a slight pull on his conscience, tugging at the back of his mind.

He was being called to Heaven.

The problem was, after yesterday, Castiel didn’t feel comfortable leaving Dean alone. He pondered over this issue while watching Dean assemble the coffee maker, pouring in the coffee grains and adding the appropriate amount of water. Of course, it was unthinkable to bring Dean to Heaven with him, and he wasn’t sure of who was calling him. The pull wasn’t strong enough to be Michael, but it could have been Anna or Uriel. It could even be the rogue angel who was slaughtering his brothers and sisters. Castiel frowned. Maybe there was somewhere he could take Dean while he was in Heaven? Or better yet, maybe he could make the apartment safer for him?

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice seemed extremely loud in the silent room. “I’m being called to Heaven.”

“Alright, man. Do whatcha gotta do.” The human nodded slowly, eyeing him across the kitchen.

“I’m going to place demon-warding sigils all over the house.” The angel spoke as he walked out of the kitchen, hearing the shuffling of Dean’s feet behind him. “I doubt that Aaron will return so soon, but I am inclined to take every precaution.”

Castiel knelt down and removed the rug in front of the door. He placed his hand into the off-white carpet underneath and burned a devil’s trap into the threads. Dean made a sound of discontent, but the angel put the mat back down and made his way to the windows. It took barely a minute to carve several symbols into the wood frame of all of the windows in the house. Castiel paused, chewing on his lower lip before carving the same symbols into the frame of the back door.

“That should do it.” He turned to Dean, who was watching him with a puzzling expression. Castiel wanted to question him, to ask why Dean was looking at him that way, but the tug on his mind became more insistent. “If anything happens, call for me. Even if it’s merely a false alarm, I’d rather be here.”

“Cas.” Dean stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder, his tone soothing as if he was trying to pacify a child. “I’ll be fine, okay? Don’t worry about me… Just flutter on up there and hurry back.”

The angel nodded, taking a step away from Dean before disappearing and following the thin line of consciousness pulling him to Heaven.

He was surprised when he didn’t land in his usual spot. He reappeared in a solid white room with a dark wooden desk in the center of it.

“Castiel.” Zachariah’s voice crawled up the angel’s spine as he dropped his eyes to the floor and held back his grimace. “It’s about time you answered me.”

“Please allow me to extend my deepest apologies.” He spoke formally. “I felt it was necessary to ward Dean’s house before I left.”

“Yes, because your assignment was attacked by a demon yesterday?” Zachariah’s words were amused, and Castiel wanted desperately to just leave. He didn’t feel like being patronized.

“Dean was unharmed.”

“And the demon? Obviously unharmed if you need to ward your human’s house.” The Seraph’s voice was moving around the room, and Castiel could almost perfectly picture the older angel pacing as he spoke.

“He escaped,"the Guardian responded knowingly.

“He did?!” Zachariah said the words in mock surprise. “Answer me this, then: How can I expect you to protect Dean Winchester if you can’t even properly smite a demon?”

Castiel felt about two inches tall. He frowned, looking down at his shoes.

“I guess it would be different if this was the first demon you’d allowed to escape, but we all know that it’s not.  Your first day one the job, you let one of those foul creatures go. I could snatch up that assignment so fast that your head would spin. Do you understand? It’s inexcusable, Castiel. It’s-”

“Enough!”

The word filled the air with static electricity, and Castiel cringed underneath it, his wings instinctively wrapping around himself in a display of alarm. Zachariah was silent, and the younger angel could _feel_ the power surround him, a sign that the room had been entered by more than one archangel.

“Zachariah.” That was Michael’s voice. Castiel relaxed minutely at the sound of it.

“I’m sorry, Michael… Have I done something wrong?” Zachariah’s voice was steady, but the Guardian could feel his terror through them. “I was merely chastising a lower ranking angel on his inability to do his-”

“It’s uncalled for.” The second archangel spoke up.

“Considering the travesty that happened yesterday, Castiel’s decision to protect the emotional wellbeing of his assignment rather than smiting a demon was the best call for him to make," Michael stated.

“And the first demon wasn’t really a threat, and hasn’t even come back into contact with Sam. Smiting her in a darkened alley would have made the telltale light of angelic grace, and might have caused a scene. Cassy made a good choice in letting her go.” Gabriel’s voice was foreign to Castiel, but he immediately knew who it belonged to.

“I was just…” Zachariah’s words were small, barely audible underneath the buzz of power in the air. He didn’t finish his thought, though, because everyone in the room knew that his argument was useless.

“Leave us," Michael commanded, and Castiel heard the beat of Zachariah’s wings as he disappeared without another word.

No one spoke for what felt like hours, and Castiel felt slightly light-headed. How long had he been up here? Was Dean alright?

“Castiel.” It was Michael who finally broke the silence. His voice was soft, an odd contrast to the air of authority that it held. “Castiel, are you alright?”

Was he?

Castiel felt his wings shaking, and he knew that it would probably be a good idea to lower them since this position could be seen as hostile. And yet, his muscles were uncooperative, unwilling to move the appendages from around himself. He didn’t know how long it took for them to droop around him, but both archangels were silent until he had steadied his breathing.

“It’s okay, bro.” Gabriel clapped a hand on his shoulder, startling him. “Zachariah’s always been a dick.”

“Gabriel.” There was humor in Michael’s voice underneath the chastising tone.

“It’s true!” Gabriel chuckled, making an elaborate gesture with his hands. “You know it, but you’re too nice to tell him. That’s why I’m useful. I’m a Messenger, after all.”

“I digress.” Michael spoke around a grin that Castiel wished he could glance up and see. “Castiel. We wanted to personally deliver our condolences over Balthazar. I know you two were close.”

The ache beneath Castiel’s ribs started to burn at the sound of his brother’s name.

“Bal was a good guy. He never shut up about you, y’know.” Gabriel spoke up once more. “Well, if it wasn’t you, it was Alfie.”

Castiel furrowed his brow at the mention of the unfamiliar name.

“Anna told me that she sent Alfie to see you last night?”

Oh.

“You’re speaking of Samandriel?”

“That’s the one," Gabriel confirmed. “Heaven’s most adorable angel. He’s a young one—Bal always liked them young, the cheeky devil. Anyway, I figured the two of you needed to meet.”

“I appreciate the gesture.” Castiel felt a small smile creeping along his face and he stopped it from forming into a full-blown grin. He could definitely tell why Balthazar and Gabriel got along so well.

“I wanted to update you on how we are going about finding the angel responsible for this.” Michael spoke up then. “I have Metatron scouring all of the writings for something to help indicate who could have done something so horrible.”

“Thank you. I can’t say that it hasn’t been plaguing me," Castiel said the words slowly. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“Anna said that you’re unwilling to take time away from Dean.” Michael spoke fondly, and Castiel almost felt embarrassed by the accusation. “I admire your loyalty, brother. It only solidifies my belief that you’re perfect for this assignment. So, for now, stay with him. If your services are needed in the hunt for our wayward angel, I’ll let you know.”

Castiel exhaled deeply with a nod. “Thank you, Michael.”

“Alright, alright," Gabriel groaned. “Enough of this. Let the poor guy go back to his human before he dies of boredom.”

“Oh,” Castiel spoke up quickly, “I would never-”

“I know you wouldn’t," Michael interjected.

“It’s alright, Cassy.” Gabriel grinned around the words. “He knows he’s got the personality of a box of Corn Flakes. He thinks it’s endearing or something.”

“Don’t you have some holy message to deliver to someone that’s away from me?” Michael teased, and Castiel felt himself smiling again.

It was odd to see the archangels acting so informal, but he could certainly get used to the idea.

“Now, Cassy.” Gabriel turned his attention back to Castiel. “Shoo-fly back to earth and take care of your Dean.”

Castiel nodded, trying to ignore the sweeping affection that tossed his stomach into a fluttering frenzy at the sound of Gabriel calling Dean _his_.

His Dean.

The Guardian gave the archangels one last nod before disappearing with the sound of rustling feathers. He reappeared at Dean’s side on the couch, and the human nearly jumped off of the cushion out of surprise.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean exhaled deeply, settling the nervous ball that Castiel could feel in his stomach. “You need some intro music or something. You’re going to give me a heart attack one day.”

Castiel was puzzled by this. He tilted his head slightly to the side and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “If you had a heart attack, Dean, I would be able to stop the infarction of your heart and heal any damage.” There was a small pause. “And don’t blaspheme.”

“Cas…” Dean shook his head, chuckling under his breath. There was another swelling of affection, but Castiel couldn’t tell who it was coming from. “You scared me. I was just stating that you scared me.”

“Oh.” The angel frowned. “I apologize. Maybe we really should see about a bell.”

Dean laughed then, and the sound pulled at something deep inside the angel. He tried not to think about the way it had felt this morning in Dean’s dream, how it was so intoxicating to be wrapped up in the human. Of course, telling one’s self not to think about something usually tends to have the opposite effect. Now, Castiel could feel heat crawling up his neck, the blood threatening to brighten his face and alert Dean of something being wrong.

“The Hallelujah Chorus would be funny," Dean piped up, steering Castiel’s thoughts away from the inappropriate route they were taking.

“Funny for what?” The angel stared at him.

“As intro music.” Dean grinned. “Like… Five seconds before you popped in unannounced, The Hallelujah Chorus could play to let me know you were coming. Could you do something like that?”

“I’m a celestial being, Dean. Of course, I could do something like that.” Castiel rolled his eyes. “Although, my ‘popping in’ wouldn’t be unannounced if there was a musical prelude to my appearance.”

“That’s the point, Feathers.” Dean relaxed back into the couch cushions and sighed. “If music played, you wouldn’t scare me.”

Castiel frowned and thought about his words, watching the people on the television carry on their jobs in a hospital. After about ten minutes of silence, the angel bit down on his lower lip as an idea came to him. Suddenly, the room was full of music, a deafening chorale of “Hallelujah!” invading the small space of the living room in ten-part harmonies and making Dean let out a loud, surprised wail of a noise.

When the room was silent, Dean had a hand over his heart, and Castiel was laughing—truly laughing (his ribs were aching from it).

“God, you’re such a dick!” Dean swatted at him in mock outrage.

“No.” The angel gasped for breath between his bursts of laughter. “That’s Zachariah.”

The fact that the words would dare to fall from his lips sent Castiel into another fit of amusement, and the angel thought that he might pass out from the lack of oxygen he was receiving. He took a few deep breaths and finally managed to calm down, glancing at Dean, who was staring at him intently.

“Please refrain from blaspheming, Dean.”

The human smiled slightly, and Castiel felt a lack of something welling inside him, causing the smile to slip off of his face after a moment.

Dean was blocking his emotions from Castiel again.

“Why are you doing that?” The angel didn’t even realize he had spoken until the words were out there in the open.

“Doing what?” Dean frowned at him.

“I…” Castiel chewed on the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a way to explain what he was asking. “I could look into your thoughts if I wanted. That’s basically the default setting of my mind, but I retract from that to protect your privacy.”

“And I appreciate that.” Dean nodded, urging him to continue.

“The farthest back that I can pull from you, since you’re mine—my um—my assignment, is withdrawing so much that the only thing I can receive from you is the echo of your emotions. Sometimes, I feel what you feel.” He watched the color drain from the human’s face before frowning. “But recently, it’s like you’ve put up some sort of wall. You can block me, and I don’t if it’s something you’re doing intentionally or if it’s a matter of your subconscious. It just—um—it perplexes me because that’s never happened before with any Guardian that I know of.”

“So… I’m a freak?” Dean spoke slowly.

“Of course, not.” Castiel said the words perhaps a little too quickly, looking down at his hands. “You were able to see through my cloaking, and I mentioned before that you’re kind of a big deal to Heaven, so I figured that it all might be connected. Your brother was able to see me as well, and I’m willing to bet that he’d be able to block me from his mind, too.”

“Oh.” The human pondered for a minute. “Does it… bother you? That I block you, I mean?”

“It makes my job a little more difficult because I can’t get a good sense of the things that please you.” The angel answered honestly.

The choked noise that escaped the back of Dean’s throat made Castiel look up at him. The human shifted uncomfortably for a moment before nodding.

“I don’t know that it’s something I can control, but I’ll try to work on it," Dean said softly, and the angel looked gratefully at him.

“I appreciate that, Dean.”

“Okay.” The human’s tone altered to a more relaxed level, signaling the end of that particular conversation. “We have three hours before we need to get ready to go to the bar. I propose Dr. Sexy reruns until then. All in favor?”

“Aye.” Castiel nodded.

He wasn’t exactly fond of the show, or the way Dean reacted to the male in the lead role, but he knew that it was exactly what Dean had wanted him to say. The human grinned, turning the volume up on the television and throwing his arm around the angel nonchalantly. And, if Castiel scooted an inch or two closer into the warmth of Dean’s side, that wasn’t anyone’s business but theirs.


	12. Drinking What Used to be Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry?” Dean almost choked, and the angel regarded him with mild concern. If he was speaking, he was breathing, right? “You’re a virgin?”
> 
> “Why is that so surprising to you?” The angel had a mind to be insulted, but there were a thousand different feelings radiating from Dean’s pores, and most of them were suffocating him.
> 
> “How old are you again?”
> 
> “Older than the earth.” Castiel shrugged. “The opportunity to fornicate has never presented itself. I don’t understand why humans make such a big deal out of it.”
> 
> “Dude.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder, forcing the angel to face him. “You don’t understand because you’ve never felt it.”
> 
> The feelings rose up again, and Castiel suddenly wanted Dean’s hand off of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi hello here is a chapter for you lovely people.  
> Title comes from "You Make me Smile" by Blue October.  
> Props to Lacey, who I love more than Destiel itself.

The slap on his backside was unexpected. It was so unexpected, in fact, that Castiel stopped the methodical circling of the mop along the floor, a small squeak springing from his lips.

Dean cleared his throat, drawing the angel’s attention from the woman who had just walked into the kitchen.

“What was that all about?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Castiel frowned as he watched the door swing back and forth where Pamela had exited the bar area. “She makes me feel… Uncomfortable.”

“Have I taught you nothing?” Dean grinned then, making the queasy feeling in his stomach intensify. “Come on, man. She’s totally hot for you.” The human slid a beer across the counter to Castiel, who placed the mop aside to hold the bottle in his hands with no intention of drinking it; he hated the taste.

“Perhaps that is the reason she’s always scantily clad.” Castiel sighed. “You know that human-angel interaction is supposed to be minimal, Dean. A physical relationship is an abomination.”

Dean shrugged, but Castiel could feel the heavy layer of aching that settled low in the human’s stomach as he watched the man tip his bottle back. “Angels are probably better at sex anyways.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know.” Castiel shrugged, rolling the cold glass bottle between his palms.

“I’m sorry?” Dean almost choked, and the angel regarded him with mild concern. If he was speaking, he was breathing, right? “You’re a virgin?”

“Why is that so surprising to you?” The angel had a mind to be insulted, but there were a thousand different feelings radiating from Dean’s pores, and most of them were suffocating him.

“How old are you again?”

“Older than the earth.” Castiel shrugged. “The opportunity to fornicate has never presented itself. I don’t understand why humans make such a big deal out of it.”

“Dude.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder, forcing the angel to face him. “You don’t understand because you’ve never felt it.”

The feelings rose up again, and Castiel suddenly wanted Dean’s hand off of him.

“We gotta get you laid, man. Pamela’s perfect for it. You gotta seal the deal.”

“Dean, I don’t-“

“Come on, man. Let me do this for you.”

Castiel found it ironic. His first few hours on earth were spent lamenting on humanity’s blatant disregard for the passing of time. Now, as the angel stood in the near-empty bar, he marveled at the fact that nearly six months had passed since he first stood in Bobby Singer’s living room, watching his new assignment stir in his slumbering, unaware of any social queues that would hint at normalcy.

So far, after the initial incident, Aaron had kept quiet. As a matter of fact, Castiel had sensed no demon within a ten mile radius of Dean for at least five months. It was comforting, but he didn’t allow himself to fall into a routine of complacency; the demon-warding symbols were still in place at the human’s apartment, and Castiel had branded Dean’s chest with an anti-possession symbol.

Every other week, Michael called him and they discussed little things about Dean. If the angel was being honest with himself, he could almost call the archangel a friend at this point. As far as the rogue angel was concerned, there had been little progress. It made Castiel nervous and slightly angry that one of his brothers or sisters was probably going to get away with such a vile crime. Every now and again, when he was alone with Dean, Castiel could swear he felt an echo of a familiar angel’s grace, as if they were being watched. And, as unnerving as that was, there was little he could do until whoever it was decided to show themselves.

Castiel started drinking coffee the morning after Dean had taught him how to use the coffee maker. The taste of the drink was quite bitter, and the angel had wrinkled his nose against it, handing the cup back to Dean. The human chuckled, pulling a few items from the cabinet above the small machine and ‘doctoring’ the coffee up until Castiel could stand the taste. Now, the angel couldn't imagine a morning without the beverage. Sometimes, he would even wake up before Dean in order to make the coffee himself, having memorized the way Dean preferred it. He often just left the hot mug on Dean’s night stand, knowing that the scent would be enough to jar the human from his slumber.

And although Castiel was still enthralled by shopping at the grocery store, the day that he and Dean walked the aisles of the mart was his favorite for a different reason. The human was rather surprised to find that Castiel was a fairly decent chef. After all, cooking is merely following instruction from a book, right? It only made sense for the angel to excel in it. Now, at least twice a week, they cook together, moving rhythmically around each other in the kitchen—tasting, stirring, cutting and complimenting each other—in a twisted culinary dance.

Dean also taught Castiel how to find programs on the television. Of course, he spent most of his time watching the Food Network to find new recipes that Dean would love. The DVD player was a bit more complex for the angel, but he eventually got the hang of it. Dean was thrilled when Castiel expressed an interest in the Star Wars series, but he wasn’t pleased with the angel naming Jar-Jar as his favorite character. It’s not as if that the angel could help his affection toward the oddly-spoken alien creature. The socially awkward mannerisms happened to remind the angel of himself on occasion.

Castiel learned how to use the laptop on a Monday. He frowned at the contraption, trying to figure out why people found the small screen and plastic keyboard to be more educational than the television. When Dean showed him a program called YouTube, though, the angel changed his mind. He rather liked being able to type in whatever he needed and having a video explanation ready for him in moments. He was shocked, however, when he opened the laptop one afternoon to find it opened on a page for a homosexual pornographic website. Not as shocked, of course, as Dean, who walked in on Castiel while he was watching videos from the aforementioned website.

“Jesus, Cas. What are you- Why are you- Oh my God.”

“Don’t blaspheme, Dean.”

“There’s irony here, Cas. Turn that off.”

Castiel had been curious, though. He still looked at the website sometimes, locking his bedroom door and turning the volume down, unaware of how to deal with the stirring in his pants when the person behind the camera caught the angle just right and one of the people on screen looked like Dean. It was just another thing to add to that box inside of him that was almost too full for the lid to fit on properly.

The angel smiled to himself as he ran the wet mop along the floor, appreciating the amount of time he had spent in this place. Dean thought of the Roadhouse as a second home, a place where he could let loose and smile widely without having to put on airs. The idea of having a second home was foreign to Castiel. In his eyes, Heaven was home, and as much as he enjoyed his time with Dean, he found himself missing the love of his brothers and sisters. Even so, Castiel smiled and tried to be as cordial as possible to his coworkers, but he was still so unsure of himself, especially when Pamela had started throwing flirtations his way.

The angel put his mop back into the bucket and sighed heavily, wheeling the contraption toward the kitchen.

“Hold on there, hot stuff.” Pamela’s voice made him stop abruptly, and the angel wondered why he hadn’t noticed her come back into the room.

“I’m assuming you’re talking to me, since there’s no one else moving in this particular room.” Castiel looked over at where she was wiping the bar down. Dean was eyeing them both warily from across the room, and everyone else had already gone home.

“Let me buy you a drink.” Pamela grinned.

“I don’t see how that would be productive, especially since you would be stealing it instead of buying it.” Castiel frowned, looking to Dean, who was moving closer.

The human snatched the mop from Castiel’s hand, waggling his eyebrows at him.

The angel frowned again. He remembered the conversation they had regarding Pamela, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of ‘sealing the deal.’

It hurt, really, the thought that Dean would push him to be with someone else when the only one he wanted was-

“Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to let me get you drunk?” Pamela’s voice invaded his thoughts, and Castiel gave her a small, albeit nervous, smile.

This is what Dean wanted, right?

"I guess it really depends on what you are attempting to get me to drink.” He narrowed his eyes, watching as she poured tequila from a tall bottle into two shot glasses. He crossed the room and sat on the stool across from her.

“Only the best for you, honey.”

Castiel could feel Dean’s nerves skyrocketing from across the room, and he wondered why the human had started re-mopping an area of the floor that Castiel had already taken care of. He grabbed one of the shot glasses and downed the contents. There was an unpleasant burn in his throat as the alcohol made its way down his esophagus, warming his chest as it passed.

“I was wondering when you’d finally let me in, Castiel.” Pamela reached across the bar and her hand fell on his, her thumb caressing the skin above his fingers.

It’s not that the touch was unwelcome, but Castiel moved his hand away regardless. He picked up her shot glass and downed it as well. This time, the burn was more bearable. Her smile was wicked as she filled both glasses again, this time claiming her own. Castiel watched as she tipped it back, the muscles in her throat working to swallow around the liquid, a drop rolling out of the corner of her mouth before she slammed the small glass on the bar. Her tongue worked its way out from behind her lips, catching the escaped droplet with another smirk.

Castiel supposed that the woman was attractive enough. If Dean was hell-bent (no pun intended) on getting him to have a physical encounter with a human that wasn’t Dean himself, Castiel could at least be grateful that the human he had chosen was beautiful in her own right. Pamela’s dark hair hung in curls around her face, her eyes narrowing as if she could sense him analyzing her. She wore a black tank top despite the wind chill outside, and the cut of the shirt showed off her slim waist and shoulders.

When Castiel focused on her face again, he was surprised to see that she was a great deal closer. Their lips were connected before Castiel could stop it, and he jerked away, bewildered by the feelings that cycloned through him when Dean dropped the mop handle and walked out through the back door of the bar.

He wasn’t expecting it. As a matter of fact, Castiel had never been so shocked in his life.

The sound of the wooden pole smacking the hardwood floor made the angel’s teeth clench as he put a name to each of the emotions barraging his chest.

Regret.

Anger.

Jealousy.

Sadness.

Loss.

Self-loathing.

Frustration.

Castiel put a hand over his heart, trying to slow its beating, its aching, that steady pulse of _no no no_ that was suffocating him. He looked at Pamela, who was staring at him expectantly.

“I need to…” He couldn’t even breathe properly enough to form words, pointing at the back door where Dean had gone.

“Of course you do.” Her smile was soft, and for a brief moment, Castiel imagined that maybe she understood. “Go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean was hurting. He was angry at Castiel for something that the angel couldn’t even fathom. The cold air hit him in the face at the same time he called Dean’s name. The human pushed off from the brick wall he was leaning against, heading down the alley away from Castiel.

“Dean, please.” The angel pursued him, speeding his steps until he was close enough to grab Dean’s shoulder and spin him around. “Dean, what have I –”

His words were cut off when Dean’s lips slammed into his, Castiel’s back hitting the brick wall of the alley hard enough that his head cracked against the stone. He felt hands on either side of his face, pulling him closer, reeling him in, and the angel was helpless to the feeling of Dean’s lips sucking his breath from his own lungs. There was the warm, slick slide of a tongue against his bottom lip and Castiel gasped into the kiss, shocked when he felt Dean’s tongue invading his mouth, rolling against his own. He didn’t want this to happen so quickly, but, if he was honest with himself, he wanted it nonetheless. He just needed to slow things down a fraction of a second. He needed to breathe. There was a press of hips against his lower half, and Castiel growled, grabbing Dean’s shirt and pushing away, forcing their mouths apart.

“Cas.”

Dean’s voice was rough and he was inhaling oxygen as if he hadn’t taken a breath in ten years. His hands were still on the angel’s face, clutching tightly as if he was afraid that Castiel would disappear. Their eyes met, and Castiel didn’t have to hold that emerald gaze to sense the fear in Dean’s chest, the tightness squeezing his lungs and threatening to overtake him like the smoke that invaded his dreams so often. The angel’s grip loosened, and Dean moved forward slowly, inch by excruciating inch, giving Castiel ample time to push him away again.

This time, when their mouths met, it was barely a brush of lips, Castiel’s shocked breaths mixing with Dean’s determined ones and washing warmth over each of them. Dean caught Castiel’s bottom lip and pressed soft kisses the entire length of it, laving over it with his tongue when he was satisfied with his work. The angel pressed closer into the kiss, making sure to keep their bodies separated enough to keep from losing himself completely. He slipped his tongue past Dean’s lips and, Father help him, he instantly needed more of that _taste_.

Castiel spun them, slamming the human against the brick and forcing Dean’s mouth open, taking what he wanted, and marveling at the fact that Dean was just _letting_ him. A choked off moan sounded down the alleyway, and Castiel couldn’t tell if it was him or Dean. In fact, he didn’t particularly care, since his was fisting a hand into Dean’s hair to tilt his head back further so that he could run his tongue along the roof of the human’s mouth. The angel pressed closer, slotting their bodies together, and he could feel Dean’s contented sigh filling his lungs as he sought out every crevice of the human’s mouth, tasting every corner.

It was wet and desperate, sloppy and perfect, and Castiel had to hold in a hiss when Dean rocked their hips together. He could feel the other man’s hardness causing friction against his own. Their mouths tore apart so that Dean could take in a few breaths, and Castiel buried his face into the human’s neck, pressing his hips forward in response to Dean’s errant tugging of his hair. When the human tilted his head back against the wall, Castiel closed his mouth over his pulse point, rolling his tongue over the skin before sucking lightly.

“Cas, y’gotta.” Dean’s words were a soft whine, and Castiel pulled away from his neck long enough to notice that the green of his eyes had been hidden by lust-blown pupils.

“Dean…” The angel’s mind cleared and he felt his stomach hollowing out. He wondered how he would ever be able to face any of his brothers or sisters again. Castiel wasn’t aware of what the human was seeing on his face, but Dean’s expression grew concerned. “Dean, I…”

And _there_ it was-- a demanding pull on his mind, unrelenting in a way that expressed urgency.

“I have to go.”

“Cas, please…” The human gripped at his coat, shaking his head frantically. “Cas, I’m sorry. I didn’t- I shouldn’t have done that- I… Please don’t go.”

Of course, it only took the angel a fraction of a second to realize that Dean was probably comparing this moment to the moment he had confessed his feelings for Aaron. Considering Aaron’s reaction, Dean’s desperation seemed fitting. Castiel took a deep breath and placed his hands on Dean’s cheeks.

“I’ll come back,” he swore, even though he had no idea how he was going to keep that promise. In fact, he was almost positive that all communication with Dean would be cut off once word got around that he had fallen for a human.

But, is that what had happened? Was he in love with Dean?

“You’ll come back?” Dean repeated the words as if he was surprised by them.

“Of course I will.” Castiel let his hands fall from Dean’s face just as the human relinquished his grip on the trench coat.

“Okay.” Dean nodded.

“If anything happens, just-”

“I know.” The human nodded and Castiel disappeared.

The line of communication brought him to a small lake. He was standing on a pier, and Anna was sitting down on the wood with her bare feet in the water.

“Castiel." The redhead looked up at him, and he wondered when he had gotten comfortable enough with her presence that he didn’t shy away from looking her in the eye. “Please sit.”

The Guardian nodded and sat next to her, crossing his legs to keep them from falling into the water.

“Castiel, tell me what happened.”

Her voice was neutral, not portraying any form of emotion, and he was struck with the thought that maybe she was talking about something else.

“To what are you referring, sister?” Castiel spoke slowly, hoping that, by some miracle of a mostly-silent God, he could get away with this.

“I saw it, Castiel. In the alley. You and Dean.” She looked at him with a blank expression on her face, and Castiel nodded, resigned to tell the truth.

Because he knew the answer to the question he had asked himself earlier.

“I have come to believe that I have fallen in love with Dean Winchester.”

The words stuck to the roof of his mouth like peanut butter, and yet he felt an unbelievable freedom as soon as they fell from his lips. The many locks on that overflowing box in the angel’s brain popped, releasing so many different emotions that he found it hard to breathe under the suffocating current of them. Something inside him bubbled into his chest, and it was reminiscent to the myriad of confusing feelings that Dean had felt during the first night Castiel had worked at the Roadhouse—a boiling heat, a painful ache, and a conflicting bow to tie the two together with.

The angel took a deep breath, wondering if this meant…?

Did Dean love him?

“I was wondering when you’d realize," Anna spoke up, and Castiel jumped at the sound of it, having forgotten that she was there in the first place.

“I’m sorry?”

“I chose you for a reason, Castiel. You and Dean… You’re going to change everything in Heaven and on earth. I’ve told you this before," she stated, and her voice was confident as a pleased tone wrapped around the words.

“I’m… I was supposed to fall in love with a human?” The Guardian felt an uneasy churning in his stomach, and he wondered if this was some sort of trap, a cruel trick to torture him more once he was taken from Dean forever.

“Castiel, what was our Father’s predominant command for us? He wanted us to love humans, and so many of our brothers and sisters have lost sight of that. You’re a revolutionary. You’re going to bring about so many changes, so many-”

“Anna,” he shushed her, “I lied to Michael.”

Her face became serious, then, and Anna looked down at her feet in the water. “I know.”

“You didn’t… you haven’t told him?”

“It’s not of his concern right now,” she replied lowly. “He needs to focus on finding the rebellious angel, not on this.”

“If our Father had a problem with the way things were being run, don’t you think he’d intervene?” Castiel looked at her, and his head was spinning with the weight of this new information.

“The father you love. You think he wants this? You think he'd give you these feelings if you weren’t meant to feel them? You think _that_ is righteous?” Her voice was soft, but the weight of her words was floating in the air around them. “What you're feeling right now in this moment? It's called doubt.”

**“** Anna, I don't know what to do. Please tell me what to do.” Castiel put his head in his hands.

This is not the conversation he expected to have upon answering his call. He had been prepared to fight for Dean, to give his life—if that’s what it took—to change Michael’s mind about humanity. This, though.

To hide his feelings from Michael for the purpose of changing Heaven entirely?

What Anna was hinting at was borderline rebellion.

“Tell you what to do?” Anna smiled slightly. “No. I'm sorry. It's time to think for yourself, Castiel. The way I see it, you have two options here. You could go to Michael and confess, or you could go to Dean and be _happy_.”

Castiel felt his hands clenching into fists, and he knew that there was no point in denying the fact that he had already made up his mind. There was no point in arguing. “I promised him I’d come back.”

“Then, go, Castiel. Make your own decision. You deserve your own choice.”

The words were almost a verbatim echo of what Dean had said to him in the supermarket, and Castiel narrowed his eyes. It made sense that Anna was the one who had been watching him. He didn’t speak his thoughts aloud, though; he merely turned to his sister and gave her a quick nod before disappearing.

When Castiel landed in the apartment, he immediately sensed that Dean was in bed. The angel paced back and forth for a moment before he realized how tired he was. He turned and walked down the hallway towards his door, but when he passed the human’s bedroom, he was surprised that the door was open.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was rough with sleep, and the angel stopped in his tracks.

“Dean.” He nodded at the human, who was lying on his stomach in the middle of his mattress, eyes following him.

“You came back.” Dean’s words were slightly breathless with disbelief, and the realization hit Castiel with the force of a freight train that he wasn’t expected to return.

“You doubted?”

 The angel stepped into the bedroom at the human’s insistence. “C’mere.”

“Stay.” Dean threw the blanket back, his hand coming out to grab at Castiel’s wrist.

“Dean?” The fog of exhaustion was heavy on his brain, but Castiel knew that they should talk about this, about what this meant. He closed his eyes in frustration. “I should-”

“Stay with me, Cas.” Dean gave a slight tug on his wrist, but his grip loosened, allowing Castiel the chance to pull away. “Stay here. Stay home.”

The angel opened his eyes to stare at the man. He heard Dean release a breath he had been holding when Castiel sat down on the bed, lying back onto the mattress.

 “Home?” He looked at Dean warily as the blankets were pulled over him and he was engulfed in an embrace that was so familiar, so _right_.

“Home.” Dean nodded, pressing himself against Castiel’s side, throwing a leg over him with a happy sigh.

Castiel considered the words. He considered Dean, and how the human made him feel.

No, earth was no home for Castiel. But, perhaps Heaven wasn’t either. Maybe Castiel never had a home.

Before now.

Maybe Dean could be his home.


	13. Love is a Burning Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dean?!” Sam’s voice bled through the door, and Castiel was taken aback by how quickly the human acted, shoving him out of the way and slinging the door open.
> 
>  
> 
> The angel had enough of a reflex to make his wings vanish before Sam came barging inside, and Dean gave a quick gasp when Castiel yanked him away from his younger brother, the smell of rotting flesh filling his senses and drilling one word into his head.
> 
>  
> 
> Danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I added the corrections that Lacey sent me. She is a goddess. 
> 
> Chapter title from "Ring of Fire" by Johnny Cash.

"Cas, y'gotta...” The human's voice was a desperate whine down the alley, and Castiel was observant enough to notice that the green of his eyes had been hidden by lust-blown pupils.

 

“What is it, Dean?” He hardly recognized his voice, hoarse from taking in labored breaths out in the cold. “What do you want? Tell me.”

 

He was suddenly overcome by his need to please Dean, to give this human whatever it was that he desired.

 

“Y’gotta. Please.” Dean shifted his hips forward again, and Castiel understood. He manifested his wings, looking down into Dean’s surprised eyes before wrapping the appendages around the human and flying them to the apartment. They landed on Dean’s bed, the human hovering over the angel with a look of shock on his face before he closed the gap between their mouths.

 

Castiel groaned into Dean’s mouth at the feeling of the human’s thighs straddling him, keeping him pinned to the bed, unable to escape the feelings churning in his body. Castiel opened his lips to Dean’s probing tongue, gasping when the human shifted his hips in a deliberate grinding motion, slotting their hips together and giving the angel that glorious friction he was needing. Castiel rolled his hips in tandem, losing his hold on reality, needing so fiercely to feel Dean pressed harder against him. He was so distracted by the heat curling in his stomach that he didn’t notice Dean trying futilely to rid the angel of his clothes.

 

Every inch of fabric disappeared with a mere thought, and Dean groaned, pulling away from the kiss.

 

“Next time," He breathed, inching his lips down Castiel’s throat. “I get to undress you.”

 

Next time? The angel’s heart skittered in his chest, a desperate noise escaping his lips when Dean bit down on the area where his neck met his shoulder at the exact same time he stroked Castiel’s erection from root to tip.

 

“Dean, please.”

 

And when did the roles get reversed here? In the alley, Castiel had held the reins. He had pinned Dean to the wall and savagely taken his mouth, tasted every inch of what the human had to offer.

 

The angel groaned, taken off guard by the feeling of Dean’s hardness pressed flush against his own, one of the human’s hands stroking both of them slowly.

 

“Shh, Cas,” Dean breathed into his mouth, sitting up to look at where his hand was moving between them, his own voice sounding wrecked. “I got you.”

 

Castiel whined underneath him, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck to pull their mouths together again. The angel bit down on the human’s lower lip, muffling a startled cry when a thumb smeared the wetness pearling at the head of his erection, dragging Dean’s wetness with it as he stroked them again. He was bewildered when Dean sat up once more, balancing himself on his knees and using his free hand to catch one of Castiel’s before bringing it down over their heated flesh.

 

Dean groaned lowly when Castiel’s hand moved next to his, interlacing their fingers to tighten the grip they had. The human’s hand fell absently onto the bed, catching in Castiel’s feathers and causing the angel to seize up, arching underneath Dean with a strangled cry. The human grinned wickedly, using a hand to brace himself above Castiel’s head as he leaned back down to trail kisses down the porcelain column of the angel’s throat before leaning over to pull a feather into his mouth.

 

Castiel breathed Dean’s name, feeling the movement of their hands quickening, the human’s tongue laving over his feathers, and Castiel felt as if he would come undone. His free hand moved up to lock fingers with Dean’s hand above his head as he arched from the bed, pistoning his hips in and out of their joined fists.

 

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” Castiel clenched his eyes shut, and it felt like there was a coil inside him winding tighter and tighter. And, just as that spring was ready to snap—Castiel felt his muscles lock into place, his toes curling into the sheet underneath his feet—Dean pulled their hands away, pinning Castiel’s arms to the bed in his confusion.

 

“Dean, please. Why did you- I was just about to-”

 

“Shh.” The human shushed him with a soft kiss, but Castiel was so frustrated that he couldn’t focus on Dean’s intoxicating taste in his mouth. “Wanna taste you.”

 

There were lips traveling down his neck, thumbs brushing against his nipples, and Castiel was shaking with need.

 

“Can I taste you, Cas? Would you let me do that?”

 

Castiel’s hips shifted slightly, hissing when the tips of Dean’s fingers brushed through the coarse hair above his erection. “Dean, I… I need.”

 

“It’s okay, Cas.” Dean whispered against the jut of Castiel’s hipbone.

 

When did he get down there?

 

“God, I’m so selfish.” Dean peppered kisses around the hipbone, sucking lightly on it. “I’ve wanted you for so long, and I don’t know how long I get to have you.”

 

Castiel knew that he should be paying attention or chastising Dean for his blasphemy, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care because Dean was marking his hip, scraping his teeth along the bone.

 

“I want everything, Cas. I want all of you.”

 

Dean moved to the other hipbone, licking over it with the flat part of his tongue.

 

“I want to taste you on my tongue. I want to feel you writhing against me, as I swallow you down.”

 

The skin of Castiel’s hip was sucked into Dean’s mouth, and he was spiraling with the need to touch himself.

 

“I want to bury my hands into those soft fucking feathers and listen to all of the sounds you can make.”

 

Castiel whined softly, pleading underneath his breath as Dean pressed his face against his stomach, whispering the next words like a prayer.

 

“I want to see your face the first time you push inside me. I want to feel myself wrapped around you, feel you falling apart because of me.”

 

Dean swallowed him down, and Castiel fisted both hands into the human’s hair, arching off the bed as that coil inside him finally snapped and he came with a choked cry that sounded an awful lot like Dean's name.

 

Castiel awoke to an empty bed, a lingering echo of teeth and lips clouding his mind before the dream slipped from his grasp. The mattress was cold, and the angel frowned when his reaching across the sheets ended up leaving him empty-handed. He sat up, a sleepy feeling still scratching at the corners of his eyes, and he was unamused to see not even a faint glow of light coming from behind the curtains of the bedroom window.

 

"Dean?" Castiel barely recognized his voice, a ragged sound that was still coated with exhaustion.

 

He stretched, a glorious feeling that pulled all of the muscles in his torso into a state of slight euphoria, and begrudgingly rolled out of bed. And then, the angel realized that Dean hadn't answered him. An unpleasant feeling plummeted within his stomach, and Castiel was in the kitchen in an instant.

 

"Dean."

 

The human jumped, and the angel could feel Dean's pulse spike when he caught sight of him.

 

"God dammit, Cas." Dean slammed down the soapy frying pan he was holding onto the counter. "You can't just sneak up on a guy like that."

 

The angel frowned, glancing around the room to assess the situation. Dean was obviously in some sort of turmoil, because it looked as if he had been scrubbing that skillet for a good amount of time—the non-stick coating was wearing away around the edges.

 

"Don't blaspheme." He chastised lightly. "What's troubling you, Dean?"

 

"I'm that obvious, huh?" The human chuckled, but the sound held no amusement, none of the mirth that Castiel had become so familiar with.

 

"You're hand washing dishes at 4:30 in the morning, Dean. It's not practical at all, considering the fact that you have a dishwasher. And, furthermore, I can tell that something is the matter with you because I can feel-"

 

"I kissed you." Dean blurted out, slinging the soap off of his hands and into the sink, grabbing a dishtowel and drying them in an exasperated manner-- that is, if one could dry one's hands exasperatedly, that is assuredly what Dean was doing.

 

"Yes." Castiel nodded, trying to imagine that this conversation was going somewhere other than Dean expressing regret over what had happened.

 

"We were in an alley and I... I just... Our lips, they were..."

 

"Dean..." The angel reached out to him, placing a hand on his shoulder that was supposed to be comforting.

 

Castiel wasn't expecting for Dean to jerk away as if he had been burned, though.

 

"Don't touch me." The human moved cautiously around the angel, and Castiel felt as if he would wretch so violently that he'd lose a couple of organs.

 

"I see..." He nodded, realizing that Dean not only regretted their kiss but he was, in fact, disgusted by it. "I apologize, Dean. It seems as if I have overstepped."

 

"Cas, I didn't-"

 

"Wait." Castiel held up a hand to cut him off, an all-too familiar scent wafting up the stairs.

 

"Cas..."

 

"Dean, stop talking." He met the human's eyes. "There's a demon in the building."

 

And, despite the sinking, hopeless feeling that had consumed him, Castiel had no doubt whatsoever that he would protect Dean to the best of his abilities. He brought his wings into visibility, ignoring the spike in Dean’s pulse and his sharp intake of breath.

 

“The scent is familiar.” Castiel stood in front of the door, waiting patiently as he stared at the dark wood.

 

“Aaron?” Dean’s voice was too breathy for Castiel’s liking, but he closed his eyes and ignored the painful feeling churning within him.

 

Dean didn’t want him.

 

“I can’t tell. An angel’s senses are hard to explain.” He kept his own voice as even as possible. “I can’t tell whose scent it is specifically, I can only tell that it is there, and I have sensed it before.”

 

The human snorted. “That’s helpful.”

 

“Actually, it is.” He focused his most emotionless gaze at Dean. “Because, if it were not for that sense, I wouldn’t have known that a demon was here, and I would have said something inexplicably pathetic and stupid during our previous conversation.”

 

Castiel could feel the agonizing twist in Dean’s chest, and it only served to make him angrier.

 

“Cas, I…”

 

“I think it would be best if you waited in the bedroom.” He cut the human off, not wanting to hear his apologetic excuses.

 

“The bedroom?” Dean sounded angry, but Castiel couldn’t bring it upon himself to care. He was hurting, and he just wanted to get as far away from Dean as possible. That, of course, wasn’t an option at the moment, so sending Dean somewhere safe seemed like the next best solution. “If you think I’m leaving you out here, then you’re-”

 

“Dean.” The angel turned away from him, keeping his voice from wavering. “You need to go. Right now, it would be easier for me to protect you if you were as far from the threat as possible. I can’t focus on getting rid of the demon if I’m worried about you getting hurt.”

 

The human deflated at Castiel’s words, and the angel felt as if his chest was going to explode. He was feeling too much, and the range of aggravated emotions radiating off of Dean wasn’t helping. The human held his position, though, and the room was quiet for a moment before the sound of a knock filled the room, causing them both to jump. Their eyes connected for the briefest instance before another knock sounded.

 

“Dean?!” Sam’s voice bled through the door, and Castiel was taken aback by how quickly the human acted, shoving him out of the way and slinging the door open.

 

The angel had enough of a reflex to make his wings vanish before Sam came barging inside, and Dean gave a quick gasp when Castiel yanked him away from his younger brother, the smell of rotting flesh filling his senses and drilling one word into his head.

 

Danger.

 

“Sammy? What’s going on?”

 

But Sam didn’t answer, because he was fixated on Castiel, a dark growl emanating from his chest.

 

“Dean, that’s not your brother.” The angel kept his voice low. “Go to the bedroom.”

 

“Not my-” Dean was cut off, though, because Castiel knew that he wouldn’t listen. He put to fingers to Dean’s forehead, sending him to the RoadHouse without a second thought.

 

“Hey there, hot stuff. Had to get your boyfriend out of here before you disintegrated his brother, huh? Wise choice.” Sam’s voice spoke for the demon, and Castiel narrowed his eyes, realizing his dilemma here.

 

“You will expel yourself from Sam Winchester or I will drag you out of him myself.” His voice was low, and Castiel felt the smooth metal of an angel blade in his hand.

 

“You can’t make me.” The demon taunted in a sing-song voice. “You see, the thing is, the only angels that are able to detach a demon from a human soul… Well, they’re Healers. If you want me out, you’ll have to kill Sam.”

 

The angel lunged forward, slamming the demon into the wall behind him.” Don’t think that I am stupid, demon. I know very well that I’d have to kill Sam. Killing you in the process would be worth it.”

 

He saw a faint glimmer of fear in Sam’s eyes, and Castiel hoped that the monster wouldn’t call his bluff.

 

“Go ahead, then.” The demon inside Sam tilted his head back, exposing his throat to the angel. “Kill me. Kill him.”

 

Well, there goes that theory.

 

“Castiel.”

 

The presence of another angel was felt in the room, and he turned minutely toward the sound of Samandriel’s voice.

 

“Castiel, let me.” The younger angel reached out at the same time that the demon howled.

 

“Samandriel, what are you-” Castiel’s words were cut short when black smoke poured out of Sam’s mouth and shot down the hallway.

 

The angel released Sam, allowing the human to collapse on the floor.

 

“Samandriel.”

 

“I sensed that you needed help.” The younger angel grinned slightly, and Castiel remembered that Samandriel was, in fact, a Healer.

 

“I’ll find you later.” He turned back to Sam at the sound of wings, signaling his counterpart’s disappearance.

 

“Cas?” The human stared up at him, taking gasping breaths. “Cas, how did I get here? Where’s Dean?”

 

“He’s asleep.” Castiel lied. “You seemed to have been sleepwalking, Sam. Why don’t you rest?”

 

“Yeah… I’m exhausted…”

 

The angel nodded, helping the larger human to his feet and onto the couch. It was almost embarrassing, how little time it took for Sam to drift off. Castiel sighed and looked down at his hands. He wasn’t looking forward to going to get Dean. The human was probably going to be livid.

 

He was at the RoadHouse in a second, a deep sigh leaving his lungs.

 

“Dean?”

 

Castiel choked back a cough, a deep growl coming from his throat at the smell that hit him.

 

Demons.

 

Lots of them.

 

The angel turned full circle, a sickening feeling overcoming him, because the bar was empty.

 

Dean isn’t here.

 

It was a trap. And Castiel had fallen willingly into it. He had compromised his assignment.

 

The angel grasped at the line that connected him to Dean, but there was nothing coming through. No feelings of fear or betrayal.

 

Nothing.

 

“Anna!” Castiel spun around again, searching for the arrival of the help that he was calling for.

 

She appeared next to him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder, but her voice was ice.

 

“What has happened?”

 

“They took him, Anna.” Castiel spoke helplessly, his hands winding into his own hair and tugging, seeking something to ground him. “Dean’s gone.”

 

 


	14. Feeling Scared to Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He…” Castiel felt cold. His fingers became numb so quickly that he had to glance down at them to make sure that they were still attached to his hands. “This is my fault, Anna.”  
> He stood, and the walls still wobbled around him, but Castiel still managed to keep himself upright.
> 
> “Castiel… No one blames you for this.” She was by his side in an instant, a hand on his shoulder, but Castiel jerked away, a bubble of white hot anger rising in his chest.
> 
> “I blame me, Anna.” He took a step away from her. “I’m going with Michael.”
> 
> “You can’t. You’re not a Soldier anymore, brother.”
> 
> “You think I don’t know that?” Castiel rounded on her, and he was slightly surprised that she looked fearful.
> 
> If anything, she could reduce him to a pile of ash and scorched wings.
> 
> “Dean Winchester was my assignment, my responsibility, my…” He closed his eyes and the anger inside him faded into something less harsh, something popping and sizzling inside of him.
> 
> “I know, Castiel.” Anna was there again, and he allowed her to stay close to him this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi hello yes here is your chapter.  
> The title is taken from "Afraid" By The Neighbourhood, which had become one of my favorite bands.  
> Look them up and thank me later. (:
> 
> Shoutout to Lacey.  
> You know how awesome you are.
> 
> I'd also like to express my gratitude to anyone who is reading this. I love you guys.

Castiel felt himself falling, spiraling into a madness that paralyzed him. He could hear Anna speaking quickly, words falling from her lips the way water would fall from a faucet, but he couldn't find it in himself to actually listen to what she was saying. Her voice sounded muffled to him, as if he was listening through a wall or there had been hands over his ears to keep the sounds from coming in clearly. He tried to focus on the way her lips formed around the words, trying to decipher what she was saying, but he had no luck.

Michael was there. Castiel could see the archangel’s wings out of the corner of his eye and he could feel the static charge in the room that emanated off of him. He wondered if Michael knew about him and Dean, if this was some sort of punishment for keeping the truth from an archangel. He wondered if Anna had known all along, if she was part of some elaborate test to see if Castiel was worthy of an assignment as painstakingly important as Dean Winchester.

A test he had failed.

He had _failed_.

Dean was gone, and Castiel was empty of all emotions, save for a hollow ache that made everything around him seem foggy. He reached for the line that connected him with Dean, followed it to its very end, and felt nothing. The angel felt his knees almost buckle as he let the link drop almost completely. “Castiel?” Michael’s voice rang clearer now, and he turned toward the sound of it.

“Castiel, are you alright?”

“Of course, he’s not alright," Anna spoke again, and Castiel frowned, looking over to where she was standing next to the bar.

Oh, right. They were at the RoadHouse.

Castiel shook his head, willing the fog of confusion to disappear, but it seemed disconnected from his own actions.

“I…” He massaged his temples, squeezing his eyes shut as a feeling of recognition welled up inside him.

Dean.

The murkiness in his head wasn’t clouding his senses. It was clouding Dean’s.

“He’s been drugged," Castiel spoke the revelation aloud as if it was something remarkable, and the admission opened a new layer of Dean’s emotions that came forth.

Confusion.

Fear.

Worry.

“I can’t feel him because he can’t feel himself.”

“He’s alive, then," Michael stated slowly. “Can you follow the link?”

Castiel grabbed at the line again, tugging on it, but it snapped at the first sign of pressure.

“Too weak," he murmured lowly, carding his fingers into his hair again as he paced. “If the demons keep him drugged, I won’t be able to find him.”

"It's alright, brother." Michael gave Castiel a small smile. "If you have the link, I can follow it. I just need to reach into your grace and find it."

"Michael..." Anna's voice had an unmistakeable warning in it, and Castiel saw the archangel raise his brow to it.

"Yes, Anna?"

"You'll hurt him."

Castiel gritted his teeth against her worry, shaking his head quickly. "That doesn't matter right now, Anna. Dean is in trouble. He needs me."

"She's right," Michael spoke up, "It will be very painful. More pain than you've experienced in all of your existence. It will also bind you with Dean. A piece of his soul will live on inside of you even after he passes, and your grace will burn within him until it's time for him to leave this earth."

He didn't even need a nanosecond to ponder the consideration; he did something that was practically unheard of. Castiel grabbed Michael's hand and placed it, palm down, on his chest. He could see the surprise in the archangel's eyes, but neither of them said a word, neither of them spoke aloud all of the indications that were being so blatantly displayed, and Castiel didn't even care.

At this point, all of his thought processes were centered on one thing: Dean.

Find Dean.

Save Dean.

Kill whoever took Dean.

Make sure that Dean is safe, and will be forever.

Because, if Castiel was displaying his emotions as blatantly as he thought he was, there would be no denying that something more than a Guardian's protection was driving his decisions. He knew that there were so many options for Michael here, so many different ways to punish an insubordinate, a liar. He wondered for a vague moment what consequence would befall him, before Michael's voice invaded his thoughts.

"Castiel, are you sure that you're willing to-"

"Yes." He nodded, keeping the archangel's hand in place on his chest. "Very well."

Castiel closed his eyes. Pain was a tricky thing for an angel. Usually, physical pain was felt through a different set of senses than angelic pain. This, though, the feeling of an archangel reaching inside of him and twisting his grace, it was something he'd never experienced.

The sensation started at the point of contact. He watched as Michael's hand disappeared into his chest, and the burning that followed was almost unbearable. It felt as if Michael was hollowing him out, scraping away all of the nerve endings in his body, pulling muscle apart from bone in the preparation of ripping everything inside of him out through the hand-sized hole in his chest. Castiel didn’t know if he was the one screaming, or if it was Dean. In all honestly, he didn’t care. If this kind of agony is what it took to keep Dean safe, then so be it.

He knew the exact moment that Michael grabbed onto Dean’s lifeline, because it felt like a breath of cold air entering his lungs and paralyzing him. He felt Dean pull on the thin strand of consciousness, a small amount of alertness entering his body as he held onto that connection, and Castiel wondered if Michael could hear the words that were being chanted in the human’s head.

_Cas. Please. I’m sorry. Cas. Please._

_Cas. Cas. Cas._

The next breath Castiel took was acidic, hot burning lava that filled his throat and threatened to block his airways. He felt consciousness slipping away, and he fought the darkness looming at the edge of his vision. Castiel held onto Dean, trying to pulse some sort of assurance through the link before he lost himself all together.

_I’m coming, Dean._

When Castiel awoke, the first face he saw was Anna’s.

“Dean?” He tried to sit up, but he felt completely drained.

“Castiel, you must rest.”

“Where is he, Anna? Where is Michael?” The Guardian fought against the heaviness of his entire body and sat up. The room around him started spinning, and he frowned. When had he been moved to Dean’s apartment?

“Michael’s gathered an army. They are retrieving Dean.”

“An army?” Castiel turned to look at her, but the movement was too quick. He sagged sideways, his arm the only thing keeping him upright as his head swam.

“You should rest.” Her voice was soft, but he could sense the wariness behind her words, and it only served to make him more aggravated.

“Where is Dean, Anna?” He tried not to sound petulant, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was in his attempt.

“Aaron was able to sense the angelic link between you and Dean. He…” Castiel’s stomach rolled at the notion that Aaron was the one who had taken Dean.

“What happened, Anna?” The sense of dread that was filling his chest was sobering enough that he was able to sit up completely.

“Aaron took Dean’s soul to hell.”

“He…” Castiel felt cold. His fingers became numb so quickly that he had to glance down at them to make sure that they were still attached to his hands. “This is my fault, Anna.” He stood, and the walls still wobbled around him, but Castiel still managed to keep himself upright.

“Castiel… No one blames you for this.” She was by his side in an instant, a hand on his shoulder, but Castiel jerked away, a bubble of white hot anger rising in his chest.

“I blame me, Anna.” He took a step away from her. “I’m going with Michael.”

“You can’t. You’re not a Soldier anymore, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Castiel rounded on her, and he was slightly surprised that she looked fearful.

If anything, she could reduce him to a pile of ash and scorched wings.

“Dean Winchester was my assignment, my responsibility, my…” He closed his eyes and the anger inside him faded into something less harsh, something popping and sizzling inside of him.

“I know, Castiel.” Anna was there again, and he allowed her to stay close to him this time.

“What do I do? I can’t just sit here while my brothers storm the gates of hell over a mistake that I made.”

“Shh…” Anna shushed him, moving in front of him and placing a hand on either side of his face, encouraging their eyes to meet. “It’s going to be alright. Michael will find Dean and bring him back here to you.”

“To me?” Castiel felt more comfortable when her hands fell to her sides, abandoning his face. “Michael didn’t sense my… Feelings?”

“Castiel…” There was a small amount of humor in Anna’s voice. “Michael sensed your passionate need to save Dean, to keep him safe. It would be counterproductive to place him with any other Guardian—especially now that you’re permanently linked with him.

“Oh.” And Castiel had forgotten about that.

The tightness in his chest loosened, and he let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. There was a slight pull of consciousness on Dean’s end of the link. Castiel turned and took a deep breath before tugging at the line to test its strength.

“I can follow the connection now, Anna. I can get to Dean.” He turned to face her, ignoring the way her brow quirked at his words.

“Castiel, I don’t think that would be-”

But her words were cut short when the room filled with five more silhouettes, one of them human.

“Dean.” Castiel’s breath was coming short, and he felt as if he might pass out again.

He was by Dean’s side in half of a second, taking him from the arms of the angel holding him.

“He needs to be healed. A lot of damage was done to his physical body, but his soul is intact.” Michael spoke slowly, but Castiel could barely hear him.

“Allow me.” It was Samandriel’s voice that pulled him from his trance, his inching toward Dean making Castiel slightly nervous.

“I can do it.” He hardly recognized his own voice. “I can heal him, there’s no need.”

He wished he could put a name to this feeling inside of him. It was an odd mixture of relief and protectiveness.

“As you wish, Castiel.” Samandriel nodded, and Michael dismissed the rest of the angels with him, including Anna.

“Michael, I… Thank you.” Dean’s breath was shallow as Castiel laid him gently onto his bed.

“I was only doing my job, brother.” The archangel gave him a tight smile. “I should mention, before I leave, a small part of that bond that I was unable to explain earlier due to the urgency of the situation.”

“Oh?” That got Castiel’s attention. He turned away from Dean to stare at Michael, and for a brief moment, he wondered when his companionship with the highest archangel had come to a point where he felt comfortable with looking him in the eye.

“A physical substantiation of the bond will make itself know in the next few days.”

“What does that mean?” Castiel frowned. “My name’s not going to appear across his forehead, is it?”

Michael chuckled, and the sound was full of authority and thunder.

“Of course not, brother. More than likely, this will come in the form of Enochian engravings in the bones. He’ll feel it when it happens, and you can explain to him what it is, but it will more than likely not be any type of noticeable mark.”

Castiel nodded, wondering how Dean would feel upon finding out that the angel had staked a claim on his soul. “And what happened to Aaron?”

“He wasn’t there. A demon called Ruby had him captive, but she slipped away during the struggle.”

Ruby. That was the familiar scent.

“I’ll leave you to heal him now," Michael spoke up once more before disappearing.

Castiel closed his eyes, placing two fingers on Dean’s forehead and focusing on healing the human. He imagined the tiny pieces of flesh being stitched back together, bruises fading, and the shallow breathing being evened out. When the angel pulled his hand away, Dean’s eyes were open.

“Cas?”

“I’m here, Dean. You should sleep.”

“Sam?” The human’s voice was ragged, and Castiel waved his hand and made a glass of water appear on the bedside table.

“Your brother is fine. He’s asleep on the couch.” The angel offered Dean the water, and the human drank deeply.

“What the hell happened? I feel like I've been hit by a truck.” Dean flopped back onto the pillow, and Castiel shook his head.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Dean. Right now, you should rest.”

He turned to set the empty glass on the bedside table, but the human flinched at his movement.

“Wait.” Castiel stood silently, staring down at Dean, who appeared to be searching for the correct words. “I’m sorry.”

The angel felt his head starting to spin again, and he frowned at the sensation. “Why are you apologizing to me, Dean?”

“I freaked out on you earlier. I… I was afraid of you getting into trouble. I was afraid of you leaving.” Dean spoke slowly, and, instead of meeting the angel’s eyes, he stared at the ceiling. “I don’t remember everything that happened today, but I do remember wishing you were there. I remember hating myself for not explaining what I meant when I pulled away. I remember thinking that I was going to die without telling you that I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Can I…” Castiel felt as if his heart was going to explode out of his chest and leap right onto Dean’s bed with him. Honestly, the thought of leaving Dean after this ordeal was causing the angel physical pain. “Could I stay with you tonight?”

Dean grinned against his pillow, scooting next to the wall to offer Castiel the spot on the edge of the bed. The angel laid down and was immediately at ease once Dean’s arms were wrapped around him.

“Goodnight, Cas," The human breathed into the back of Castiel’s neck, causing him to relax even more.

“Goodnight, Dean."


	15. I Will Be There, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I remember smelling something horrible. Like eggs.”
> 
> “Demons. There were a lot of them. They jumped you and took you.” Castiel closed his eyes.
> 
> “Why?”
> 
> “I’m not sure,” the angel replied, “They had you drugged, so I couldn’t tell where you were. I couldn’t find you, Dean, I-”
> 
> “You were there.” The words were whispered against Castiel’s neck, and the angel shivered. “I felt you, Cas. You found me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY OKAY HI HELLO.  
> FIFTEEN CHAPTERS WOW.  
> Hugs to anyone who is reading this. I love you all.
> 
> I had a moment while writing this chapter. There were a lot of tears.
> 
> Shoutout, as usual, to Lacey-- The glue that keeps me together.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Silhouettes" by Of Monsters and Men.

Castiel woke up to the feeling of Dean’s arms tightening around him. He heard his own name being whispered into his hair line, and the angel smiled. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment; he could tell from the amount of sunlight coming in through the window that it was approximately mid-afternoon, and he wondered if he should wake Dean or call Ash to tell him that the two of them wouldn’t be at the bar that evening. He felt Dean’s grip on him relax minutely as sleepy noises were pressed into the skin at the base of his neck, and Castiel weighed the pros and cons of allowing himself to drift off again. It would be so easy to stay forever in this bed with Dean, a warm place where he was free to be oblivious and ignore the problems that were piling up outside the door to their apartment.

“Cas…” The human smiled as he spoke the name, a gruff whisper that was muffled as Dean nuzzled his face closer to the warmth of Castiel’s back.

The angel kept his eyes closed, pressing his subconscious backward slightly to get a small glimpse of what the human was dreaming so happily about. He didn’t want to intrude by completely falling into Dean’s head, so he kept the nudging light and curious. He was shocked, however, when Dean’s mind seemed to grab at the connection and yank, submerging the angel in the foggy setting of the dream. The two of them were lying in the same bed, much like they were in reality, and Dean’s contented sigh was pressed against the angel’s ear.

“We have fifteen minutes," he whispered hoarsely. “Fifteen whole minutes before we have to get up.”

“Oh?” Castiel was on his back, Dean draped around him. He tried not to move too much; he didn’t want Dean to react the way he had the first time he’d dreamwalked.

“And, normally, at a time like this, I would suggest a quickie." The human’s teeth closed around his earlobe, and Castiel shivered. “But I’d much rather just hold you.”

The kiss that Dean left on his neck made Castiel’s chest feel as if it was going to explode. It was the barest brush of lips—something that could easily be mistaken as the human merely rubbing his open mouth against the angel’s skin. He felt Dean’s hands nudge him onto his side so that they were facing each other, and then the human’s lips were on his. The kiss made Castiel feel so _much_ , even though it was only a gentle caress that consisted of Dean opening his mouth over the angel’s to steal the air from his lungs. There were so many feelings passing between the two of them, and one in particular was standing out among all of the others, but Castiel couldn’t bring himself to say the emotion aloud. It was a pulsing thing, growing with each beat, and radiating into the angel and filling him so completely that he thought he might burst.

“So perfect…” Dean’s hands were running up the angel’s sides, coming to a halt between his shoulder blades, right where the base of his wings would be, and Castiel felt a warmth wash over him as the feathered appendages materialized.

He blinked up at Dean, a surprised look on his face, and the human chuckled.

“It always startles you, doesn’t it?” Dean murmured while rolling so that he was atop the angel, another chuckle escaping his lips before he lowered his mouth onto Castiel’s.

The angel was still struck by the fact that the human had made his wings appear, so he was slow to begin kissing back. He closed his eyes, parting his legs to accommodate Dean between them as the human’s tongue invaded his mouth in a slow caress of something that sent a shiver down the angel’s spine. Castiel heard a muffled sound, felt it against the inside of his mouth, but he wasn’t entirely sure which one of them had made it.

The yelp that came when the human pressed their hips together and buried a hand into the soft white feathers, though, Castiel was certain it came from himself.

He arched into the touch, a feeling of bliss traveling from the base of his shoulders all the way to his fingertips, and he realized that he was helpless against this fragile human, a man whose life could be ripped away from him at any given moment in which Castiel wasn’t vigilant enough. The thought caused him to ache in ways that were unfamiliar to him, and he instinctively wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and pulled him closer, kissing him more fervently than before. Castiel felt his tongue dip inside the human’s mouth, a desperate whine escaping his own parted lips as he took as much as he could.

The change in the atmosphere was noticeable to Dean. The human pulled away from the kiss after a moment, trailing his lips down the angel’s throat and grinding their hips together more purposefully, a chuckled breath coming out against Castiel’s skin.

“Maybe I lied about the quickie.” And Castiel was fine with that.

He rocked his hips against Dean’s, taking in every sensation that the human had to offer: the feeling of lips and teeth leaving marks on his neck, the glorious friction between his legs with every slow drag of Dean’s movements, the way his wings had moved of their own accord to wrap around the human so that almost every feather was being caressed. It was sensory overload, and Castiel was open to every single feeling. It was freeing, really, that in the nonrealistic realm of Dean’s dreams, he didn’t have to worry about Michael or Aaron or heaven or hell or anything else that could possibly go wrong. He could just be in a figment of a moment with Dean, happy and unthinking about the feelings that stirred dangerously within him when he was awake.

A loud, irritating beeping noise rang throughout the room, and Castiel’s wings flared out in surprise, a small squeal coming from Dean at the sound of the alarm. The human groaned and rolled off of the angel to hit the button to silence the clock on the bedside table.

“Shit. Of course, the alarm goes off," Dean grumbled, and sat up.

“I…” Castiel was out of breath when he sat up, and there was still a fair amount of _want_ pulsing through his veins when Dean spoke again.

“I know, babe, I know." The human’s fingertips trailed over the angel’s forehead, pushing his hair back in a soothing motion, “but it’s Thursday. It’s the big day.”

“What big day?" The angel sat up and fixed Dean with a stare as he felt his wings shift into another plane of reality.

“Come on, Cas." The human grinned widely, leaning over to place his lips gently on Castiel’s shoulder. “Don’t even try to pretend that you’re not as excited about the science fair as she is. Go wake her up.” 

“What?”

Castiel extended his awareness from the room, and—yes—there was, in fact another person in the apartment. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and made to stand, only to be pulled back into Dean’s chest, the human’s arms wrapping around his torso and keeping him still.

“Also, good morning.” Dean’s voice was soft against the angel’s neck, and Castiel felt as if he’d melt into a puddle in Dean’s lap when a gentle kiss was pressed at his nape.

“Dean...”

“I know, I know. Go.” The human said the words almost regretfully as he unwound his arms from around Castiel, allowing the angel to stand from the bed and exit the room, following his senses down the hallway toward the other presence in the house.

As he walked down the hall, he stopped, noticing that the off-white sheetrock was no longer bare. There were framed pictures lining the walls, photographs of Dean and Sam and Bobby and a blonde that Castiel instinctively knew was Jo Harvelle. He smiled at the thought of Dean feeling secure enough in this place to treat it as if it were more than just a place to lay his head at night.

As the angel made his way down the hall, though, the photos began to change. Castiel appeared in more of them. There was one where the two of them were in the RoadHouse, Castiel sitting on the bar and Dean standing between his legs, back to Castiel’s chest, both shooting a cheesy grin at whoever had taken the photo as the angel’s arms wrapped possessively around the human from behind. Castiel frowned at the photograph, trailing his finger over the glass on top of the picture before moving onto the next one.

The two of them were dressed formally, lips locked in a sweet kiss that was taking place in front of a small group of people. The angel’s hand instinctively reached to touch the photograph the same way he had done the last one, a feeling of longing welling up inside of him before he snatched his hand away from the frame at the realization of what was happening in the picture.

He moved to the next frame, which was an official document, a license of marriage.

Castiel felt his throat closing up as he glanced down the hall at the remaining photographs. There were photographs of him and Dean in front of an adoption agency, pictures of them holding tightly to a small pink bundle, photos of them grinning cheekily as their daughter blew out her birthday candles, another framed document—This one a certificate of adoption to Dean and Castiel Winchester for their little girl MaryEllen.

The guest room door flew open, and Castiel felt the world tip sideways when a young girl came out of the bedroom.

“Papa!” Her voice was music, a playful thing that came out of her mouth and wrapped him in something that felt akin to the warmth of Dean’s bed. She flung herself at his legs, and he instinctively grabbed at her, picking her up and holding her in his arms, and Castiel felt as if he might die from the emotions swirling inside of him. “Papa, come help me move it.”

The little girl, who couldn’t have been more than 7, wriggled out of his arms and grabbed his hands, tugging him down the hall and into her room. The bedroom had been painted a powder blue color, and there were pictures of butterflies and birds hanging on the walls. It looked as if someone had hand-painted flowers on the lower half of the wall and birdhouses on the top half. Castiel took a deep breath, still trying to come to terms with what was happening, and with the fact that this is something that Dean considered to be a good dream. It was certainly a change from the last dream, where the human had pinned him to the wall with every intention of taking whatever it was he had wanted. The girl—MaryEllen, his daughter—led him to the far wall, where a colossal volcanic structure had been built.

“It’s perfect, right?” the girl gushed, squeezing his hand lightly, “Thanks for helping me with it, Papa. I don’t know what I woulda done without you.”

“I…” Castiel was at a loss for words as he stared at their creation, noticing a small strip of paper taped to the corner that read, ‘Mel W.-- 3rd grade.’

“Cas! Mel! Time to make breakfast!” Dean’s voice originated from the kitchen, and MaryEllen’s squeal was overjoyed as she tugged the angel down the hall to where the human was.

“Pancakes?” she questioned, and the grin in her voice was so obvious that Castiel didn’t even have to look at her to know that it was present.

“It’s Thursday, isn’t it?” Dean scooped the child up and she released a fit of giggles as his hand danced across her ribs. He set Mel down with a chuckle, “Go get the milk out for me, tiger.”

Castiel heard the refrigerator door open, but he didn’t see it because his eyes closed the instant Dean’s lips met his. This kiss was sweet, a gentle press of lips that pulsated with that unnamed emotion spinning between them. When Dean pulled away, the angel found it hard to pull air into his lungs.

“Coffee’s making,” Dean murmured the words into Castiel’s cheek, “have a seat and we’ll handle breakfast.”

The angel could do nothing more than comply when Dean put two hands on his shoulders and forced him into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. He watched as the two of them moved around each other in a dance that resembled his own with Dean’s. MaryEllen cracked the eggs into a bowl and Dean flipped the pancakes impressively high. When the coffee was finished, Dean carried over Castiel’s cup and MaryEllen brought over the creamer and sugar. She stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on her papa’s cheek, and the angel thought that his face would break from smiling so much.

As soon as breakfast was finished, the girl ran to the table, climbing into the seat across from Castiel. Dean chose a seat next to him and set the food down before flopping a pancake onto Mel’s plate. He then began piling them onto Castiel’s. Once everyone had an adequate amount of food on their plates, Dean took Castiel’s hand.

“God is great, God is good,   
Let us thank Him for our food.  
By His hands, we now are fed.   
Thank You for our daily bread.”

MaryEllen grinned as she spoke, and Castiel felt something caught in his throat as he stared at her in a mixture of pride and shock. Even after the girl began eating, Dean kept hold of Castiel’s hand. He gave it a light squeeze before leaning so that their shoulders were touching.

“Can you excuse us for a sec, Mel?” The human leaned a bit more, nudging the angel to stand.

“Hurry or your pancakes’ll get cold.” She grinned up at them before Dean was tugging Castiel out of the room.

The next thing the angel knew, he was being shoved into their bedroom, and the minute the door was shut, he was being pressed against it as the human’s nose inched its way up his neck.

“Fuck, Cas, I…”

He didn’t let Dean finish his sentence, though.

Castiel turned, shoving Dean against the door and claiming his mouth in a heated moment that he wished would stretch into forever. The angel let go—He allowed his hands to tangle into the sandy hair on top of Dean’s head, and he used that grip to deepen the kiss. It was all so much to take in, it was too much. The idea that Dean wanted this side of him, the side that could live with him and love him and spend the rest of Dean’s human life with him, it was a constant throbbing ache behind Castiel’s lungs, and he wanted to kiss the human against their bedroom door—their bedroom—until that pain was gone. But it kept pulsing, a metronome of unspoken emotion that he was now struggling to keep in.

_I love you._

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

“I know, baby…” Dean’s voice was soothing, barely a whisper, and it confused the angel.

He also didn’t know when they had stopped kissing. Their foreheads were pressed together, and Dean’s fingers were rubbing calming circles at the base of Castiel’s skull. He was making quiet shushing noises, and Castiel then realized that there were tears on his own cheeks, and small sobbing sounds were coming up from his throat every now and then.

“It’s okay, Cas…” Dean’s words were hardly audible as they were pressed into his cheek. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

The angel felt himself hiccup and he shook his head, pressing closer to the comfort of this disillusioned reality. He didn’t want Dean to wake up from this dream. He didn’t want to have to leave this perfect place.

“I love you, too.” The sound of it filled him up with so much relief that the angel felt himself being ejected from the dream. He grabbed on to Dean’s shirt and willed the human to stay asleep.

It was no use, of course.

When the angel’s eyes opened, he was lying in Dean’s bed, and the human’s arms were holding him securely to his chest.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was soft, but the sound of it still caused the angel to flinch. “Yes, Dean?” He kept his own words low, too, for fear of breaking the small and intimate atmosphere surrounding them. “What happened yesterday?”

The human tightened his grip on the angel, as if he was afraid he might disappear.

“Sam was possessed by a demon,” Castiel whispered. He felt his own hands move to grab Dean's wrist, giving him something to hold on to. “I was worried for your safety, so I sent you to the bar. It was a trap.”

“I remember smelling something horrible. Like eggs.”

“Demons. There were a lot of them. They jumped you and took you.” Castiel closed his eyes.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure,” the angel replied, “They had you drugged, so I couldn’t tell where you were. I couldn’t find you, Dean, I-”

“You were there.” The words were whispered against Castiel’s neck, and the angel shivered. “I felt you, Cas. You found me.”

“It wasn’t me.” Castiel shook his head. “Michael… He’s an archangel—the most powerful archangel in all of heaven—he reached into my grace and strengthened our connection. He used it to find you because I couldn’t do it. The process was painful, and it had… side-effects.”

“Like?”

“The demons could sense the link between us, so they took your soul to hell.” Dean’s grip tightened more around him, and Castiel heard the human stop breathing for a moment. “I was weak from the binding, so Michael stormed hell and found you.”

“And he brought me back.”

“Yes." Castiel felt his chest constricting, “Because I couldn’t.”

“And Sam?”

“He’s fine. I managed to get the demon to expel itself without causing any damage to his mortal body.” Castiel nodded.

“Thank you.” Dean’s lips were at his neck, trailing up to his ear, and the angel closed his eyes to the aftershocks of the dream he had just witnessed.

“One more thing." The words caused Dean’s mouth to still and Castiel regretted them. “Because Michael had to use a soul-binding ritual to find you, we are… Our… Your soul is connected to my grace in a way that it wasn’t before.”

“Okay..?” Dean pulled away slightly, and Castiel rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “Are you alright with that?”

“Am I-” The angel whipped his head around to stare at Dean, “Of course, I am. I would have done anything to save you, Dean.”

“Okay then.” The human gave him a cheeky grin, and Castiel wanted to kiss him.

He didn’t, though.   
Of course, he didn’t.

Which turned out to be a good decision, because at that moment, Sam came barging into the room, a confused look on his face.

“Dean, how did I- Oh my god, I’m sorry.” Sam clapped a hand over his eyes, and the two of them sat up in the bed.

“We’re both dressed, man, calm down.”

“I’m sorry, Dean, I just wasn’t expecting…” Castiel watched as Sam slowly parted his fingers as he spoke, a brown eye peeking at him.

“Yeah, well, neither was I,” Dean chuckled, slinging an arm around the angel. “And yet, here we are.”

Castiel could feel the nerves radiating off of Dean, and he noticed that they were shadowed by an overwhelming hope. He allowed the emotion to wash over him as a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes.” He glanced back at Dean. “Here we are.”


	16. All My Doubt is a Staircase for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The angel moved to push Dean’s hand aside, but the moment they touched skin-on-skin, Castiel felt his grace swell up inside of him.
> 
> Dean gasped, going completely still as he was assaulted by the angelic presence next to him, and Castiel could tell that Ash was coming towards the kitchen. He didn’t know how long this process would take, so he did the first thing that came to his mind to get rid of the unwanted human. Just as the door was pushed open, the angel pressed his lips to Dean’s. It was supposed to be a diversion, something soft and disposable, but Dean came alive underneath the touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Hi, Here's this.  
> I felt that the last few chapters have been shorter than usual, so here's a long one. (Please don't kill me for the ending.
> 
> Props to Lacey for making this wonderful.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "I'll Follow You" by Shinedown. A+++++ song.

It happened the next night as they were closing the bar. The sound of the dishes crashing in the kitchen caused an unpleasantly terrified feeling to lurch itself through Castiel, and he could feel Dean’s pain singing through the link between them. The angel used Ash’s distraction at the noise to disappear from his spot against the wall, reappearing at Dean’s side. The human slumped into him, and he assessed the situation, not knowing if he was supposed to expect demons coming for Dean so closely after their failed attempt.

There were no demons, though.

There was only Dean trembling in the angel’s arms.

“Cas, what’s happening?” The human was clutching at his chest, and Castiel wished that he had an answer to this desperate question.

The angel moved to push Dean’s hand aside, but the moment they touched skin-on-skin, Castiel felt his grace swell up inside of him.

Dean gasped, going completely still as he was assaulted by the angelic presence next to him, and Castiel could tell that Ash was coming towards the kitchen. He didn’t know how long this process would take, so he did the first thing that came to his mind to get rid of the unwanted human. Just as the door was pushed open, the angel pressed his lips to Dean’s. It was supposed to be a diversion, something soft and disposable, but Dean came alive underneath the touch.

Castiel vaguely remembered hearing Ash’s scoffing before he left, but he couldn’t be absolutely sure. Dean’s hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, and the feeling combined with the solidifying of the bond between them made Castiel feel as if he would break in two from the force of it. He pushed Dean backward until he was against the counter, and he felt the human lift himself onto his tiptoes to scoot back until he was seated on the hard wooden platform behind him, opening his legs to pull Castiel even closer. It wasn’t enough, though. The angel could feel their insides being fused, and he wanted to climb into Dean’s lap and be that much closer, but he restrained himself when he heard what sounded an awful lot like a whimper coming from the human. He pulled back only for Dean’s lips to follow his, teeth clamping onto his lower lip and drawing him back in. Dean opened his mouth under Castiel’s, shuddering out a soft noise and the angel reached out with his grace. He felt the human grab onto it and yank, and suddenly, the feelings roaring inside of Dean were much clearer to him.

There was a thin stream of consciousness that was invading the angel’s head, swirling around inside his skull as Dean thought out every emotion that was flooding him.

_Want this. Want **him.**_

_Fuck._

_Need this. Need **him.**_

_Love this. Love **him.**_

_Love him, love him, love him._

Castiel pulled back then, and Dean made a small sound of disapproval at the loss of contact. Their eyes stayed locked for a fraction of a second before the human winced, reaching out to touch the fabric of his sleeve over his right shoulder. The angel could feel the throbbing ache in Dean’s shoulder, and he was worried. He carefully reached over to lift the cotton of the T-shirt up.

What they found left them both speechless.

It was a handprint—every millimeter of Castiel’s palm and fingers seared into Dean’s skin—and the two of them stared at it for a moment before the human finally broke the silence.

“What the fuck?”

“Dean, I…” Castiel shook his head, frowning because this was almost as bad as having his name tattooed across Dean’s forehead.

“Cas, what the hell happened to my arm?” Dean reached out to touch the mark, and he winced when his fingertips made contact.

Castiel moved to touch it, but the human flinched on instinct, and the angel dropped his hand immediately, a small jolt of disappointment shooting through him.

“Michael mentioned that there may be a physical sign of our bond, Dean.” He spoke slowly, “He told me it would more than likely be something that happened invisibly to the human eye, though; along the lines of a marking in your bones or something of that nature.”

“Oh.” Dean frowned down at the mark before looking up at Castiel warily.

“I could try to heal it for you, if you’d like?” The angel said the words slowly, secretly hoping that Dean chose to bear his mark without the attempt of removal.

In all honesty, Castiel felt possessive over Dean when he looked at the mark, and he decided that maybe the human looked better with the angel’s signature on him. A part of him wondered if any demon would dare touch Dean now that he had been truly marked by an angel’s grace. His grace. Castiel bit his lip as he thought about it.

“Nah, man. It’s fine.” Dean’s voice was low, and the angel could sense a change in the atmosphere around them.

Dean didn’t care about the fact that there was a handprint scorched into his skin, because it was Castiel’s handprint, and the realization hit the angel with the force of a freight train.

“May I touch it?” Castiel reached out slowly, worried that the human would wince away again. Dean didn’t, though, and that gave the angel all of the permission he needed.

Dean jerked underneath the touch, and Castiel immediately pulled back, but the human grabbed the angel’s wrist. He felt so many things emanating from Dean, and Castiel was worried about overwhelming him, but Dean pulled the angel’s wrist closer until his hand was mere centimeters away from the mark. The human flinched again at the contact, but he didn’t let Castiel pull away. Through the connection, the angel could feel lightning sizzling up Dean’s shoulder and fanning out around his collar bone.

The human’s breathing became ragged, and he closed his eyes, uttering a curse, and Castiel pulled his wrist from Dean’s grip.

“It hurts you.” The angel frowned.

The human opened his mouth to speak, but a light tapping on the kitchen door interrupted them.

“Um, I’m just gonna head out, if that’s alright, boss?” Ash warily stuck his head through the door just as Castiel yanked down Dean’s sleeve.

“Yeah, man,” Dean replied smoothly, “We were just about to head out, too.”

Ash’s gaze darted between the two of them before the shadow of a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I’m happy for you two, by the way.”

Castiel frowned, glancing over to see how Dean would react to the obvious assumption that he and the angel had embarked upon a relationship of sorts. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, of course, because the fact that the human could feel anything remotely romantic toward him was still dumbfounding.

“You bet your skinny ass you are.” Dean grinned, making a dismissive gesture towards Ash with one hand and grabbing at Castiel’s tie with the other. “Now get out of here, you fucking redneck.”

“Fine, fine.” Ash raised his hands in mock surrender, his voice taking on an artificially hurt tone, “I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

And then they were alone again.

The feeling of it was almost stifling, but the angel felt at ease as Dean pulled him closer by his tie, the human nosing his way up the his jawline. Castiel waited for the familiar press of Dean’s lips against his skin, but they never came.

“You’re okay with this, right?” The human pulled away, shooting Castiel a serious look. “You… You want this, right?”

“Dean…” The angel was in awe that he even felt the need to ask the question, “Dean, I—Yes. I am more than okay with this.”

The human's smile was pressed against the skin of Castiel's cheek, and the angel could feel his chest constricting in that familiar way that meant that he was happy. He could also sense the contentment rolling off of Dean in waves, and that just made his own jubilation grow.

And then, a notion struck him:

How can this possibly be wrong? He thought of the way Dean's face had filled with so much emotion in his dream, the way that the human had looked at him when their child ( _their_  child-- Castiel would never get over that) had clung to the angel's legs. The exuberance that had radiated from the human had been innumerable, and Castiel couldn't fathom living in a world where that much happiness could ever be frowned upon. Honestly, how angry could Michael be if he saw how much Dean had wanted this?

The angel's blood ran cold at the thought of the archangel.

He was brought back to reality by Dean's voice, and Castiel said a silent prayer to his Father that he would never find out what Michael had to say about his relationship with Dean. And, since when had he begun to think of this twisted situation as a relationship? Was that what it had just become? "Cas?" Dean's hand was waving back and forth in front of his eyes, and the angel blinked.

"Cas, are you alright?"

"I'm... I'm fine, Dean. I apologize." Castiel was frowning around the words, and he could see the gears turning in the human's head,and could practically feel Dean's train of thought.

"If you don't want this, Cas, I won't force it on you. I just-"

The angel cut him off by saying his name softly.

"Dean, I was just lost in thought. I want this." He said the words almost desperately, and he wasn't sure when his hands had fisted into the cotton material of the human's shirt, but the fabric almost ripped underneath his fingers.

"Okay." Dean's fingertips were running lightly over the angel's white knuckles, and Castiel took the hint, releasing the shirt from the captivity of his grip. "Let's get home then."

The angel nodded, reaching a hand out to touch Dean's forehead, but the human ducked out of the way, hopping from the counter quickly.

"Let's go the old fashioned way, huh?" Castiel heard the sound of Dean pulling his keys from his pocket and he nodded, following the human as he made sure all of the doors were locked before exiting the bar. 

They made it home in approximately 12 minutes. The angel was standing in the kitchen washing up the rest of their dishes from dinner when Dean appeared wearing a grey T-shirt and the same jeans he had been wearing earlier. The human hopped onto the counter and watched Castiel work. Dean kept quiet, but the angel could feel the restlessness plaguing his body. He turned the water off and dried his hands, turning to face the man.

"Dean, is everything alright?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" The human's tone was slightly defensive, and Castiel was immediately worried about whatever was bothering him.

"I just washed the same glass five times, and you didn't even notice." The angel pointed to the few dishes laying out on a dishtowel on the counter.

"Why were you washing dishes anyway? We have a dishwasher." Dean spoke the same argument that Castiel had given a few nights ago.

"Dean." The angel gave him a stern look, tossing the damp towel onto the counter.

"Okay, okay." Dean bit his lip, looking down at his bare feet. "Earlier, when you um... You touched the..." There was a vague gesture toward the human's shoulder, and Castiel knew exactly what he was talking about.

His stomach dropped, and he frowned deeply.

"I hurt you." The angel's voice was soft.

“No, Cas.” Dean’s voice was a barely audible whisper, and then, the angel noticed the anticipation traveling up the human's spine.

He had liked it.

Dean had liked it when Castiel touched the mark on his shoulder. 

_His_  mark. 

_His_  brand.

Heat shot through Castiel, and he ran his tongue over his own bottom lip before tentatively reaching out again.

“May I?”

“Careful.” Dean warned and, as he pulled the angel closer, Castiel could feel the human's body shuddering already.

The angel took great care in lifting the sleeve of Dean's T-shirt. He was wary about making contact, settling to only use his fingertip.

Dean made a quiet sound, his hands fisting into the fabric of Castiel's coat as his body tensed. The angel went to pull his hand away, but the human grabbed his wrist, pressing his forehead into Castiel's shoulder.

The angel took the hint, tracing the mark with the pad of his index finger, following the lines of his palms and fingers, ignoring the squirming human sitting on the counter until his name was being gasped.

"Cas, please..." The angel looked up then, slightly taken off guard when Dean's lips descended upon his own. 

The human made a soft noise against his lips, pulling him closer. The angel, in turn, pressed his palm against the mark, lining up his hand perfectly with the handprint on Dean's skin. Castiel focused on the human’s mouth, opposed to the electricity he could feel through their link, because he did not want to lose himself in this. This wasn’t about  _him_. This was about Dean.

He tightened his fingers around the human’s shoulders, and Dean groaned into the angel’s mouth. The noise radiated through Castiel, filling him up until he thought he’d explode into a thousand pieces, and Dean pulled away to pull the skin of the angel’s jaw between his teeth.

“Fuck, Cas…” The human’s voice had a ring of desperation to it, and Castiel noticed that Dean was rocking his hips against nothing, searching for friction. “Fuck-fuck-fuck I could get off from just this, just having you here.”

“Dean…” Castiel whispered his name before finding his mouth again, opening his lips to the human’s prodding tongue with a pleased sound.

The angel searched out every nook and cranny of the inside of Dean’s mouth before focusing again, using his grace to make the human’s shirt disappear. He pulled away from Dean’s lips to line his throat with open-mouthed kisses before pulling his hand away from the mark. He felt the human’s breathing attempt to regulate before he latched on to his collarbone, scraping his teeth along the bone gently as his knuckles lightly brushed over the handprint.

Dean's head fell backward, his skull slamming into the hard wood of the cabinets behind him, and Castiel moved to pull away.

He had hurt Dean again.

The feeling of guilt flooded the angel, but the human fisted his hands into the angel's shirt to keep him in place. 

"Do you understand how fucking frustrating you are?" Dean's voice held an angered tone as he shoved the angel away. 

Castiel was confused as his back slammed into the refrigerator, the human hopping off of the counter to press him against the cold aluminum of the appliance behind him.

"Dean, I don't understand."

Had he changed his mind?

Did Dean not want him anymore?

The thought was excruciating, but Castiel couldn't exactly blame him for it. They were from different worlds, and Dean could have his choice of any companion. The angel felt unworthy, and he shook his head.  "I should go. I should-"

"Don't you fucking dare." Dean looked at Castiel as if he could have punched him, and the angel braced himself for it (not that the human could have actually hurt him).  "Do you understand what you do to me, Cas? I don't- I don't fully understand what happened with this bond thing, but I can- I can _feel_ you, Cas. I can feel how much you want this, and I can feel how much you just wanna run away from it, and it scares the hell out of me."

Dean's words were spoken with so much fire that the angel felt like he was being engulfed. "If you're here, then be here. If you're not, then get the hell out."

"I..." Castiel was at a loss for words. 

Dean could feel him? It made sense, of course, that the link would work both ways, but the angel hadn't thought of that. In all honestly, the revelation was shocking to him—almost as shocking as Dean wanting so fiercely for him to be here.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

The minute he said the words, he felt something inside the human break, and it made him talk faster, trying to get his point across.

“I am conflicted, and I wasn’t aware that I was opening that up to you. I apologize for that, and for any confusion or chaos that I may have caused you. You’re asking me to make a decision I’ve already made, though, and I’m not sure how to convey to you just how much it would destroy me to run away from this.”

Dean kissed him then. It wasn’t a soft or precise kiss; it was messy and demanding, and Castiel had no problem giving Dean whatever it was that he wanted. There were hands fumbling to shove his jacket away, and the angel allowed it, even helping by shrugging it off of his shoulders. His shirt came open with the sound of threads popping and buttons scattering all over the floor, and once his hands were free from the restraining material, Castiel moved it back to place it over the mark on Dean’s shoulder. The human groaned into his mouth, and Castiel opened himself fully, allowing his end of the bond to take anything that Dean was willing to give him. The angel made a soft noise of surprise at the feelings that flooded him. It was heat and ice, lightning and fire moving from his fingertips to consume every part of him, a tornado overcoming his senses. He could feel Dean burying his face into his neck, and Castiel heard the sound of glass shattering as the heat that was traveling up his spine fanned out and overtook his entire body.

“Cas…”

The human’s voice was muffled in his ears, and it took him a moment to remember where he was as he came down from the explosive feelings that had taken control of him. The kitchen was dark around them, and the angel blinked.

“Fuck, Cas, did you just- The lights exploded.”

Castiel took a moment to process what had happened, and he felt slightly embarrassed. Dean hadn’t even properly touched him and he was already finished.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Dean’s lips were soft against the angel’s as he murmured praise, and Castiel could feel the human’s obvious arousal still pressing against his hip. “So fucking beautiful, Cas.”

The angel spun them, pressing Dean against the refrigerator. The human was shocked at the sudden movement, and he would have fallen if Castiel didn’t have a proper grip on him.

“Cas, what are you-”

“Let me,” the angel whispered against his skin, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses down the column of Dean’s throat.

The human nodded, and Castiel was relieved. He didn’t know if he was still expecting Dean to deny him, but the consent made him dizzy, spiraling through him as his hands traveled to the button of the human’s pants. Dean took in a breath when Castiel’s fingertips began to trace the mark again, ignoring the consistent buzzing that was flowing through himself in favor of tending to Dean’s desire instead of his own. His fingers were shaking when he tried to undo the human’s jeans, and it took him a few attempts before the button popped free. The zipper was easier to maneuver, and he pulled it down slowly to relish the noises that Dean was making at his ministrations. Hands were fisted into the angel’s hair as Castiel shoved Dean’s boxers down and out of the way.

The angel’s mouth was latched onto the human’s collar bone when he first stroked him from root to tip, and Dean’s groan vibrated against his lips. He pulled away to look down at where he held the human’s erection in his palm, getting used to the weight of it against his hand, and he noted that the tip was leaking. Castiel’s thumb smeared over the liquid, and Dean shuddered, making a wheezing sound that was similar to the angel’s name. Castiel stroked him again, and he took in the fact that the slide was easier now that his hand was lubricated with Dean’s fluids. The angel kissed Dean’s collarbone again, finding that he was rather attracted to this particular area on the human. He fairly enjoyed the way it would turn red underneath his ministrations.

Castiel’s lips traveled across the man’s skin, trailing over the top of his shoulder as he continued to stroke him. He realized then how tightly Dean was wound. The human was standing on his tiptoes, head thrown back against the refrigerator as a low whine found its way up his throat. Dean’s breathing was heavy and ragged, and Castiel was worried for a moment that he might hyperventilate. He slowed down the movements of his hand, and Dean made a displeased noise, moving his hips into the angel’s fist to keep him from stopping.

“Almost there, almost there. Don’t fucking stop, Cas, please.”

The angel nodded, quickening the pace of his hand, his lips skirting lower to kiss one of the fingertips of the mark. Dean yelped, and the hands in Castiel’s hair tightened. The angel grinned kissing each fingertip in succession, and the human went boneless, almost crumpling into the floor. Castiel, of course, kept him on his feet, his eyes moving up to Dean’s face as the human spilled out all over the angel’s fist.

Castiel glanced down, slowing his movements and pulling his hand away. While he was distracted with wiping his hand off, Dean slid into the floor with a lopsided grin on his face. Castiel put a hand on the human’s shoulder and flew them into bed. He made sure that they were both wearing a clean pair of pajama pants, and Dean wrapped himself around the angel instantly.

“Do we need to talk about this?” the human mumbled, nosing at Castiel’s ear.

“We are,” the angel paused, unsure of how to finish the sentence, “in a relationship now?”

“If you’re alright with that?” Dean’s lips were at the angel’s ear now, and Castiel shuddered.

“I’ve answered this question at least three times already, Dean.”

“Okay then.” The human grinned, “Go to sleep.”

And Castiel did. 

For a few hours, anyway.

He awoke to the feeling of an angel's presence in the house, and Castiel's blood ran cold. He managed to carefully maneuver himself out of Dean's grip and made his way down the hall, summoning his angel blade, the feeling of cold metal in his palm causing him some hint of relief.

Castiel played out all options in his head. It could be Michael. Or Anna. Or Samandriel. Or Uriel. Or the rogue angel that was killing his brothers and sisters.

When Castiel turned the corner, he came face-to-face with the one angel he wasn't expecting.

"Balthazar?"


	17. Tangled Between Your Little Flaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A question came out then, something that Castiel had been wondering since he had met the younger angel.
> 
> “Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
> 
> “Oh, Cassy, please don’t be angry with me for keeping him from you.” Balthazar implored, and his voice took on a softer tone. “He is so good for me, and I know that you never particularly cared for romance. I didn’t want to bore you with stories of cuddling and eskimo kisses.”
> 
> Castiel almost asked what an eskimo kiss was, but he shook off his curiosity, figuring he could just ask Dean when he woke up. The thought of Dean send a pleasant chill down his spine, and Balthazar laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow okay I hope you guys don't hate me for leaving you hanging for so long.
> 
> Finals week is upon us, and I've been crying into my textbooks for weeks. I've actually /just/ finished this chapter, and it's completely unbeta'd, so it is subject to editing.
> 
> Here, have this porn and please forgive me for the delay.
> 
> Chapter title taken from "Flawless" by the Neighbourhood.  
> I listened to this song on repeat for 3 hours to write this chapter.

It was a weird thing to see, Balthazar standing in the middle of the kitchen with remnants of light bulbs scattered all around his feet. Castiel was dumbstruck, his jaw slack as he tried to understand if this was actually happening or not.

“It’s not.” Balthazar offered as explanation, but it only served to confuse Castiel more.

“You’re dead.”

It was all that Castiel could manage to say, and he wondered if his brother would laugh in his face from the admission. He felt something inside him snap, and he turned to look at the refrigerator to keep from making the wailing noise that was working its way up his throat.

“Oh. Cassy…” Balthazar took a step forward, glass crunching underneath his shoes, and Castiel took a countering step backward. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you here?” Castiel looked down at the ground, deciding that he should clean this mess up before Dean awoke.

“I’m not actually here, Cassy. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Balthazar shook his head. “You’re dreaming. About me, no less. I’m honored. Considering what you’ve just finished doing with Dean, I expected your dreams to be a lot less… Boring. I don’t mind, though. I’m dead, after all.”

“I’m…” Castiel blinked, and he understood. He could now see that the edges of his vision were foggy, and that every piece of glass in the floor was shaped exactly the same way.

He swallowed, looking up at his friend. “I’ve missed you.”

Balthazar stepped forward again, and this time, Castiel let him. There was a hand on his shoulder, and the walls around him started to melt away. He was worried until he realized that they were now standing in heaven, at a place that Balthazar used to spend a lot of time at. It was an old mansion, but the man who had made it his heaven had made sure that it was ornately decorated with the finest pieces of furniture.

“I was just there.” Balthazar pointed across the room toward a chaise lounge that was seated in the corner. “Rachel was sitting next to me, and there were three other angels in the room.”

Castiel frowned, narrowing his eyes. He glanced across to where he was pointing. “Who were they?”

“I’m not entirely sure you’re ready for that yet.” Balthazar shook his head, moving to sit on the lounge. “Anyway, we have more important things to discuss.”

The Guardian rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I don’t want to talk about my… sexual encounter with Dean.”

“I’m not talking about Dean.” Balthazar tucked his legs underneath him as he spoke. “How’s my Alfie?”

“Alfie?” He was puzzled for a moment before he realized who the other angel was talking about. “Samandriel. He misses you fiercely.”

Balthazar looked forlorn. “I miss him even more.”

A question came out then, something that Castiel had been wondering since he had met the younger angel.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

“Oh, Cassy, please don’t be angry with me for keeping him from you.” Balthazar implored, and his voice took on a softer tone. “He is so good for me, and I know that you never particularly cared for romance. I didn’t want to bore you with stories of cuddling and eskimo kisses.”

Castiel almost asked what an eskimo kiss was, but he shook off his curiosity, figuring he could just ask Dean when he woke up. The thought of Dean send a pleasant chill down his spine, and Balthazar laughed.

“Your human’s awake.”

“Oh.” Castiel nodded, glancing around. “How do I wake myself up?”

“Not just yet.” There was a lecherous smile on his brother’s face, and he was worried.

Until he shuddered again, a small squeak coming from his lips as he was assaulted by a dull sense of pleasure.

“What’s-”

“That’s my cue to leave.” Balthazar stood, shrugging. “Try to stay asleep as long as possible. You can thank me later.”

Castiel opened his mouth to ask when ‘later’ would be, but all that came out was a choke moan as his legs started to quake underneath him. He didn’t realize his eyes had fallen shut until he forced them open again to find Balthazar gone. He felt heat running up and down his spine, and he heard a faint hum, his lips falling open again on another broken sound.

And Castiel didn’t know what was happening, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know how much time passed before his eyes snapped open, but it’s not like he had the conscious thought to worry about time, not when it felt like his body was being lit on fire in the best way imaginable.

The ceiling was first thing he saw when his eyes finally focused. He didn’t look at it for very long, though, because his eyelids fluttered closed as another groan worked from his throat.

“Good morning, angel.” He felt Dean speaking the words against his thigh, and when he looked down, Castiel’s breath caught at the sight of the human between his legs, pressing soft kisses along his skin. He didn’t know what had happened to his clothes, but he didn’t particularly care at this point.

“Dean…” The human’s name was a ragged breath on Castiel’s lips, and he couldn’t help the shiver that went up his spine when Dean’s tongue made a circle over the tip of his erection.

He made a beckoning motion, wanting to feel the human’s lips against his own, needing so many things at one time. Dean crawled up the angel’s body, pressing his lips against Castiel’s. The angel made a breathy sound at the feeling of Dean’s arousal through his sweatpants, and he sighed into the kiss, loving how easy it was to cant his own hips just so and make Dean groan into his mouth.

Their lips parted, and Dean trailed kisses down the angel’s neck. Castiel tilted his head backward to give him more access to his skin, his hands wandering down the human’s back to rest on his waist. He pulled their hips closer, and Dean made a choked noise against the angel’s skin when the angle was perfect, their erections grinding together. Castiel shuddered at the noise, feeling it vibrate down to his bones, and he was instantly very annoyed with the fact that Dean was still wearing pants. He focused his grace, and he couldn’t hold back the chuckle that escaped his lips upon hearing the human’s shocked noise when he realized that they were both naked now.

The laughter was cut short, though, because a groan clawed its way up Castiel’s throat the second Dean caught his bearings and wrapped a hand around the both of them.  
It was glorious. He could feel the heat of Dean's length against his own, and when the human tightened his fist on the upstroke...

Ohhh.

His hands turned into fists and Castiel thought that he heard a ripping sound. Dean gave a breathless chuckle above him, slowing the movements of his hand, and the angel thought that he’d fly into a million pieces.

“You’re gonna have to use your angel mojo to mend my sheets, Cas.” He spoke the words against Castiel’s ear, and he shuddered at the heat of the human’s breath on his skin.

“Dean, please…” He rocked his hips up, basking in the human’s gasp at the newfound friction.

Castiel didn’t know what it was that he was begging for, but he felt as if his skin was becoming too tight, too small to contain his grace. It was maddening, and Dean only laughed at him, whispering about patience and finish lines, but the angel couldn’t have cared less. The slow slide of warmth that engulfed him was almost too much, but then Dean’s hand was gone. The angel made what could be easily deciphered as a truly pathetic noise, his own hand moving downward to wrap around himself. He gave himself a long stroke, his breath hitching when he let his fingers dance over the tip.

“Fuck, look at you…” Dean was stroking himself, too, and Castiel could feel his satisfaction and arousal through their bond. The angel also felt lips traveling up his thighs, and he parted them to give the human a place to rest between his legs. He glanced down, his own hand moving slightly faster as he watched Dean rest his head on the angel’s thigh, lust-blown green eyes following the movement of his hand.

Castiel felt as if he was catching fire. His own eyes fell shut, but he could still feel the human watching him, greedily tracking every up and down motion of his hand, and it was almost too much. He whispered Dean’s name on a particularly hard downstroke, and he heard a murmur of approval just before his hand got batted away. Castiel looked down in protest, his mouth opening to chastise the human, but all that came out was a loud groan as Dean’s lips closed over him and his erection slid down into a warm and tight throat.

He couldn’t keep his hips still. Castiel writhed on the bed, the feeling of Dean’s muscles swallowing him down being enough to push him into orgasm. His eyes closed and he wailed, his hands reaching out to tug at the human’s hair, hips rolling obscenely as Dean swallowed every drop of his release. When he opened his eyes, Dean was furiously stripping his own erection, and the light bulb above the bedroom dresser had shattered. Castiel turned them so that he was hovering over Dean. He pulled the human’s hand away kissing each of his fingers in succession.

“Teach me.” Castiel’s voice was low, and Dean was breathing so hard that the angel feared he might hyperventilate.

“Teach you what, Cas?”

There was something flowing through their link, an undercurrent of heat and slight deception. Dean knew exactly what Cas wanted, but he still wanted the angel to say it out loud.

“I want you to teach me how to do what you just did.” Castiel spoke slowly, making sure that Dean got what he wanted out of this exercise. “I want to make you fall apart, Dean. I want to taste you and have you begging for my mouth.”

Dean’s eyes drifted shut, and he rocked his hips up to press his straining erection against Castiel's thigh.

"Y'just..." His breath caught, and Castiel realized that he loved the sound of his human so close to falling apart, shivering with anticipation. "P-put your mouth on me."

Castiel smiled with a nod. He started at the man's lips, kissing them softly. He felt the pressing and pulling sensation of the human kissing back, and the angel quickly became overwhelmed. He didn't deserve this, not from someone as wondrous as Dean. The human spoke his name, and Castiel realized then that their lips had parted without him noticing. He ran his fingers across Dean’s face, his cheekbones and jaw line, his eye lids and temples, reverence and wonder pulsing through him, and he was in awe of how someone so beautiful could belong to him. 

He then pressed his lips to Dean's jaw. The human tilted his head to the side, offering him more skin, and Castiel took it greedily. He enjoyed the breathy sounds that Dean made, and the angel bit down softly, wondering how he got lucky enough to have the opportunity to see this side of Dean, to feel him arching underneath him, happiness and anticipation flowing from the man. Castiel devoured his neck, wanting to know Dean fully, to see the parts of him that no one else had seen, to know him in a way that others missed. He wanted Dean to cry out, to need him more than he needed breath, and the thought made the angel groan against the tan skin underneath his lips.

Castiel wandered further down Dean’s chest. His fingertips grazed a nipple, and the human arched, desperate fingers finding purchase in the angel’s sleep-mussed hair. His eyes met Dean’s then, and Castiel had to swallow down a loud and extremely aroused noise.

The bright green was almost completely swallowed by lust-blown pupils. Dean’s gaze was wild, desperate, and the angel wondered how far he’d be able to push him before he exploded. Keeping their gazes locked, Castiel pressed the flat part of his tongue across the human’s nipple. Dean’s head fell backward, eyes drifting shut, and the angel took his cue, tongue circling the sensitive skin before his lips closed around it. Dean’s hips began to rock against nothing, a small whine clawing its way up his throat. Castiel showed mercy, deciding that next time, he would make Dean beg for him.

Just the thought of it made the angel shiver. He could imagine Dean’s trembling body underneath, pleading for release. Castiel wouldn’t give it, though. Not until he had kissed every square inch of the man’s body, tasted everything he had to offer, devoured him.

“Cas?”

Dean’s voice was desperate and needy, drawing the angel from his reverie. He glanced up, those dark, wild eyes meeting crystal clear blue ones, and he felt guilty.

“I apologize, Dean.” He peppered kisses around the human’s navel. “It seems I am more imaginative than I would have ever given myself credit for.”

He felt heated curiosity spiking in Dean’s blood, and Castiel spoke slowly, making sure that the human understood every single syllable of the promise he was speaking.

“Next time…”

He saw Dean shudder at the thought, and Castiel ran his hands gently up the human’s sides to soothe him.

“I am going to take my time. I am going to pick you apart until your very bones are crying out for me to touch you.”

“Cas, please…”

The angel pressed his lips to the human’s hip bones, a sweet gesture to counteract the growl that escaped him at the sound of Dean’s pleading. It was a dizzying madness, something that assaulted him and made him want to hear more, want to pull all of the little noises and pleas from the human’s throat. He wrapped his hand around the erection in front of him, pressing a kiss to the base of it.

Dean was beautiful. 

A wheezing noise escaped the human’s lips, and Castiel pressed another kiss to his length, just above the spot where he had placed the first one. His movements were hesitant as he trailed his lips over the erection, stopping to gather the fluid on the top with the flat of his tongue. It was tangy, salty, and somewhat bitter, but Dean’s reaction to the motion was delicious. He licked over the tip of him again, tongue moving slowly across the sensitive skin, and Dean’s breathy implorations became a stream of soft moans.

Castiel tried to remember the heat that had spiraled through him earlier, how glorious Dean’s mouth had felt, and he closed his lips around the head and gave a shallow suck. Dean arched off of the bed. The angel wasn’t expecting it, so a good portion of the human’s length slid into his mouth. This, of course, served only to make Dean buck more, his length sliding in and out of Castiel’s mouth until strong hands clamped down on thrashing hips to still the movement. He understood now, though, exactly what Dean wanted.  
Keeping his hands on the human’s hips, Castiel sank down. Beautifully whispered praise met his ears as his nose pressed into the tuft of hair at the base of Dean’s erection, and the angel swallowed around the intrusion in his throat. The muscles in the human’s thighs began to tremble, and Castiel kept swallowing, hearing Dean mutter a curse.

“How are you- fuck Cas- Do you not have to- God, are you breathing?”

Castiel considered pulling off of him to answer the question, but Dean was rolling his hips slightly, and he could feel that the human was close, so the angel just groaned in response.

Dean’s hands tugged on his hair, a wailing noise leaving his lips and the angel felt something sliding down his throat. It was thick, and he kept swallowing for fear of pulling off and making a mess all over Dean. The human was shaking underneath him, hips undulating against the bed as he rode out his release. Finally, when Dean stilled, he used his grip on the angel’s hair to pull him up toward his lips.

The kiss tasted differently from what Castiel had gotten used to, but Dean groaned into it. He felt a thrill shoot through the human, and the angel hummed happily against his lips. He pulled away after a few moments, sighing as he pressed a kiss to Dean’s chin.

“That was… Satisfactory?” His voice was soft, and he was tentative about asking the question.

Dean chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that the angel felt against his own body.

“Perfect, Cas. It was perfect.”

“You’re perfect.” Castiel spoke the words against the skin of Dean’s neck, soft and almost inaudible, as if he was delivering a blessing.

And, maybe he was.


End file.
